A Bit Of All Right
by I Got Tired of Waiting
Summary: COMPLETE :: SLASH :: Book 02 of Hiding Under The Ninth Earth :: Harry has a secret--Severus has a few of his own. Can they reconcile and stay together? A romance about honesty and trust in five parts. :: Edited to R rating for FFnet
1. Part I An Empty Corridor

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_ (with _The Book_ contributions by HaldolPOIM)

**Part None : Introduction**

**Hiding Under the Ninth Earth** is a continuing story of Severus Snape and Harry Potter--their relationship and life together. It's about the Muggle Wars. And it's about how two people, standing firm together, can change history.

The entire Work, when finished, will contain a series of stories, novellas, and novels comprising a total work. Each of these "stand-alone" Books or Anthologies provide a "flashback" of importance to the overall story; the Epilogues of each comprises a chapter in the larger work, "Hiding Under the Ninth Earth" and will be published in order.

**A Bit of All Right**, which follows this Introduction is the story of how Severus Snape and Harry Potter got together. Whether they stay together is another matter all together. Is their love strong enough to overcome deceptions and secrets they both hold? Or are these things enough to tear apart a long-standing relationship? Only time and this story will tell. Epilogue contains Chapter 01 of "Hiding Under the Ninth Earth".

* * *

**Warnings** : SLASH :: Mild Het :: Implied Non-Con :: Implied Turture :: Heavy Angst

**Pairings** : Past (Alluded): SS/LM; SS/TR; SS/OC; HP/SF; HP/FW; HP/Hufflepuff; HP/JF   
Present: HP/DM; HP/SS; RW/HG; BW/FD; AD/??

**A/N** : Edited to "R" for FF.net--it will be noted where scenes have been edited. The unpurged NC-17 version is available at my site.

**Obligatory Disclaimer** : The characters belong to JK Rowling (although I don't think she quite saw them in this way) without permission and without malice. While I wish I could make money off of it, none is being earned and this piece is strictly for entertainment purposes; suing me would be pointless as I have no assets except my mind and I dare you to try and get it.

**Betas** : My thanks to my beta's: the ever faithful Lydia Lovestruck (who kicks ass, mainly mine and provides a much needed prop on those days when the words just won't come), the love god HaldolPOIM (practice, practice, practice), and Rainyshiny (who only gets to read the PG-13 parts). I am the luckiest of women.

**Thank you's** : A huge thanks to all of you who have reviewed. The response here and via e-mail has been most heartening. I will try to answer all of you I can off-line and questions will be answered in the Author Notes on my site.

**Dedication** : To my family who love me despite the messy house, odd hours, and my obsessions. I love you both.

Are you still here? Go. Go now. Enjoy!  
I Got Tired of Waiting :: 8/2003 (rewrite 5/2004)

* * *

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part I : Severus  
**Chapter One : An Empty Corridor**

**20 June 2003 : Early Morning**

"Hey Professor Snape!" The painting of a young squire in all his finery waved at him frantically. "Professor Sna-ape!" He appeared in the next painting oblivious (well, almost) to the young ladies bathing in a lake, their clothes strewn all over the bank. Their eyes followed him as he crossed the painting and left to go to the next one, their giggles and shrieks of outrage disappearing even as he did.

The two matrons having their tea in the next painting harumphed in disgust as he trod mud through their parlour. "Pro-fessor Sna-ape. Over here," he called out again.

Severus Snape's awareness of his surroundings slowly returned with the sound of the tiny man calling to him from picture to picture. He looked around him and realised the hallway he was in, while clean the last time he'd been there, was filthy with cobwebs and dust lying over every surface.

_'Really, I wonder when was the last time the house-elves dusted these statues? Even in the moonlight they're a mess. Perhaps I've been remiss in my long absence.'_

The thought was dismissed almost as soon as it was formed. He grumbled in self-derision, _'As if I would trade my normal nightly activities for roaming the hallways again.'_

Then came the sobering reflection, _'Perhaps, I will **need** to get reacquainted with it again.'_ Shuddering, he shied away from the unhappy conjecture.

"Professor, where have you been? It's been what? Four years? Do your new pursuits interest you so much they keep you from ever visiting us?" the squire asked when it appeared he finally had Snape's attention.

"Arthur, a pleasure as always," Snape said, stopping and bowing to the young man before he was a king. He would really prefer to ignore him, but if he did, Arthur would tell Merlin, and Merlin would tell Dumbledore, and well, _'I really don't want to deal with them on top of everything else.'_

Straightening, he continued walking through the empty corridors in the same sweeping manner as years past, robes billowing, following the same ingrained path. He assumed the young man would follow him.

"Tell me Professor, why are you in such a hurry?" Arthur asked jumping into the next picture, a pastoral landscape with a few Jersey cows in the background. "Ech! I really stepped in it that time," he said, shaking his foot. "Mithral's Beard, Snape! Will you please slow down! Give me a minute to scrape the shite off my shoe."

Snape slowed down and stopped, looking around him again. There was no evidence anyone had been here in a very long time. In his previous life he'd stalked wayward students up to no good after curfew in these halls. His eyes would peer in the dark for furtive movement, ears straining to hear the minute noises of people, desperately standing still, in the delighted hopes of scaring the living daylights out of them. He'd had a reputation to maintain; the stripping of House Points not merely a thing of discipline but a gratifying art. He'd enjoyed making the little buggers squirm.

Tonight however, his eyes sought no miscreants, his ears, when listening, heard no wayward footfalls, and his joy in his past endeavors lay dormant. No, tonight his intent was only to clear his head and do some serious thinking--alone if he could. So far he was grateful he'd met no one. Well, no one except Arthur.

Arthur drew even with him. "You're not very talkative this evening. Are you well?" the young man asked, sober.

Breaking his thoughts, Snape eyed the young portrait wondering, as he always had, how accurately the portrait had been painted. If it was even close to his true self, he could see where Arthur had made a formidable king; it was difficult to resist him. For reasons he'd never explored, he'd always been able to talk to this young man and had usually made time to visit with him when on his rounds. Arthur's manner and demeanor had demanded a polite formality long unused and pulled the best out of his dry sarcastic wit. He replied without rancor, "Well enough, thank you. Forgive me if I give offense. I was merely trying to think."

"And this need for thought--is this what draws you away from your _warmed_ bed?" Snape paused, startled. Arthur merely laughed. "Oh we know all know about it. Never tell Merlin anything if you don't want it noised about."

"I'll keep it in mind. He's almost as much bother as Dumbledore," he said wryly.

"Maybe more so--he's older and had more practice," Arthur chuckled. "Although the Headmaster is kinder about it."

"I assure you, that depends entirely on what side of his wit you're on," he observed, thinking of a few choice instances where he'd definitely been on the wrong side.

"I hear you're _sleeping_ better now, Professor, no longer the insomniac," he said slyly.

Snape's surprise made him answer honestly, "I suppose one could say that." He grimaced with his following thought, _'Or at least I was.'_

Arthur thoughtfully considered him before observing, "Maybe before, but not tonight? What has changed Professor?" he asked, curious in the thoughtless way young men have.

Snape snorted. _'Why not? It's not like Albus doesn't already know.'_ With some irony he replied, "The bed is not--warmed--tonight." Snape found he could not hold Arthur's eyes long, filled as they were with an indefinable something that could either be taken as pity--or compassion. It was hard to tell.

Arthur cocked his head at him. "Is it completely cold?" he asked.

_'Now, that's an interesting question. Is it cold?'_ Giving it some thought, he replied, "Not completely, no."

"Then it seems to me you stand a good chance of getting it warm again," Arthur remarked, shrugging.

_'Do I? Can I?'_ Out loud he said, "Perhaps but _not_ if I don't know what the problem is."

Arthur regarded Snape a long moment as if reading his thoughts--and his desires. "Perchance, you would prefer to be alone--to think, Professor?"

"If it's no offense to you, yes I actually would," he replied quietly. He looked up about to apologise, when the expression on Arthur's face stopped him. This was not a person upset with a rebuff. This was a king-in-the-making knowing when to leave well enough alone.

"I will leave you to it, friend Professor. Buck up, it's not as bad as you think," he said cryptically.

"Thank you for your consideration, Arthur. As always it has been a pleasure. Do stop by sometime; you know where the frame is." Snape gave him another little bow.

Arthur moved his head to the side, a little embarrassed. "Here I chastise you for being such a stranger when I have been equally remiss." He laughed sheepishly. "I will see you, friend." He turned to go back to his painting. As a parting shot he looked over his shoulder and said, "I have heard from Violet and the Fat Lady that the one who warms your bed is even now returning to it. Perhaps, it is time for you to retire as well." With a wink and a smile far too old for his young face he was gone.

* * *

He continued on his walk alone, deep in thought. It felt strange to be up this late again--or early depending on one's perspective. Previously a restless insomniac, he usually went to bed at a reasonable hour and, after some more--adult--pursuits, slept like a baby. Instead of crawling from his bed at dawn, feeling worse than when he'd finally got to sleep, he now awoke most mornings refreshed and ready to start his day. The sound sleep, not to mention the sometimes--charming--ways he was awakened, gave an extra sting to the interminable reprimands he still gave his capricious students and piquant to the roguish sarcasm given to the staff.

No one really noted the change until they came under the lash of his sharp tongue. Mystified, they would realise the hated, biting sarcasm of previous years had mellowed into something approaching ironic humour; struggling, they would try to fathom when the change had occurred. He, however, had no such difficulty. He could pinpoint the start of the whole metamorphosis to within a few seconds after Harry Potter had finally become his lover.

Right before turning another corner, his boots making a lonely sound in the dusty unused corridor, he almost missed the sultry voice calling out to him. "Why hullo, handsome. Aren't you even going to stop and chat?"

His head snapped up, his attention focused on his surroundings. He stopped, chagrined, to find he was striding through _her_ corridor, and he hadn't even noticed. He felt vaguely ashamed. Retracing his steps, he returned to stand in front of a portait of a middle-aged woman with hair so shiny black it was almost blue. Her face bore the remnants of a once breath-taking beauty now turned hard and unforgiving, but her azure eyes hid kindness, and her lush mouth had the lines of someone who was perpetually amused by everything that passed under her gaze.

He cut her a bow, saying, "Cerise, please forgive me. I can only claim a pressing distraction that I missed seeing where I was and your lovely face."

She shook her head in mock disdain, her voice low and smoky. "I see some things never change. Always the flatterer, eh, Severus?"

He laughed out loud at this, knowing she'd seen him in real life (and later as this painting) in more foul moods than any human had a right to tolerate. During his days as a spy, Cerise had been the only person he could ever open up to honestly; she had in more ways than one saved his sanity in the whole nasty business. A "Madame" by profession, she'd run the only bordello in Hogsmeade, "The Randy Rooster". It had died when she did, the men and women within going to Knockturn Alley as a result.

"Well, if I flatter, it's only because you inspire me to," he said with a smirk.

She tilted her head at him, devilment in her eyes. "Severus, Severus, Severus. Whatever am I going to do with you? You never change, do you? You're still as 'charming' now as you were the first time I rescued you off the streets and still using that honeyed tongue of yours to lap your way out of trouble. So tell me, what distracts you _tonight_ that you could pass me by, unseen?"

"Harry, what else?" he asked, shrugging.

She shook her head, the corner of her mouth twisting. "Why does that not surprise me? You're wearing that 'beat-me-my-lover-hates-me-I'm-down-and-depressed' _look_. Horrible to experience, wonderful for business."

He had to smile. She returned it, saying, "Let me see, the last time we talked was what, a year ago?" At his nod she continued, "If I recall, Harry was in school and everything was smooth." She paused and leant closer to him, her voice low and confidential. "But you know how us pictures tell a thousand words--the rumours have been rather strong lately about the two of you and given the way you're pounding down the corridor, I'm almost convinced they're right. So, I ask you again, sweet Severus, what's on your mind? And, none of your lovely prevarication either," she lightly scolded him.

He sighed, shifting his feet, uncomfortable. He might have once been able to talk to Cerise about almost anything; however, this was a bit more personal than previous conversations. The moment the thought ran through his mind, he knew it wasn't true. He'd met Cerise in his early 20's when she'd rescued him staggering in from a Death Eater meeting. She'd 'given' him his first and only woman when he was 22 and even though the woman had been kind and thorough, it had been a frightful experience; Cerise had never laughed at him for it. She knew most of his dirty little secrets about Lucius and his days of spying. One thing he'd always known, always counted on--Cerise could keep a secret and had ever been his friend.

He cleared his throat. "I have no idea where to begin--"

She chuckled, a wicked throaty sound. "Well, most folks start at the top and work their way down, but in your case? I find starting in the 'middle' usually works best."

He smiled weakly. Looking him over, she continued, "Must be very bad then if I can't even get a rise out of you. Tell me, Severus. What's on your mind?"

He decided it couldn't hurt--she's always given him sound advice in the past. Trying to keep his voice level, he said, "This makes the fourth night in a row Harry's been late back to our rooms without a handy excuse--_any_ excuse. And I'm worried. Well, not in the sense that Harry's had a broom accident on the way home or is in some kind of serious trouble, although it wouldn't be any stretch of the imagination to think so. Harry has always _been_ trouble--one way or another."

She chuckled. "Trouble? That's strange coming from you, Severus, with all you got into." Her face took a more serious cast. "So he hasn't been home for a few nights? This is a disaster?" She eyed his austere face. The hard edges in her face smoothed a bit as she asked softly, "What concerns you then, friend?"

Severus shook his head. "I'm not so young anymore, Cerise. Maybe I'm getting too old. I have to wonder if the 21 year gap between us is too large to span anymore? At 22 he's so young. Perhaps I'm too stodgy and old-fashioned? Unable to provide the experiences Harry seems to crave lately? Perhaps he regrets our decision?" His voice slowed and grew pained, "Is he off philandering in a different sort of trouble? Maybe he's off with someone else more able to give him what he needs?"

The mere thought of it made a sore spot in the pit of his stomach. If he was truthful with himself--and he usually was--Harry's possible infidelity was not something he could fault him for; they'd made no overt promises, no verbal declarations of affection. Not that he'd ever set him any kind of good example. After all, he'd stolen him right out from under Draco Malfoy's watchful nose in the first place. _'Of course, my theft probably had more to do with the 'emotional' side of what I offered than any real sex appeal on my part.'_

She snorted with derision. "Pshaw. Age has little to do with appeal. Look at me. Your portrayal of me was quite accurate and yet I had no problem attracting men or women for that matter. Severus, you may not be a shagbunny, but I'd like to think there's a certain appeal in maturity and experience. Don't sell yourself so short. And this is Harry we're discussing. I think perhaps you're blind--I've seen the way that boy looks at you, Severus."

"That may be, but I haven't seen him enough in the last few months to know if he _still_ looks at me that way. I don't think I'm 'selling myself short', as you say. I suppose, on further reflection, I'm really worried about Harry's apparent boredom with the physical side of our relationship. Tell me Cerise, are the other attributes I have to offer--stability and commitment, a sincere desire to see him succeed, a warm pair of arms, and affection--not the even trade I'd supposed they were? Are they not enough to cover for my apparent lack of imagination in the bedroom?"

She chided him gently, "Severus, with the passion you have for life, I cannot fathom you being boring at anything. But that's not all you're worried about, is it?"

"No, it's not." He hesitated, then thinking about what she used to do, he shrugged. "Maybe it's inevitable; Harry is young, extremely attractive, beautiful even--at the prime of his life. Perhaps he wants to experiment--wants variety. You know my past--I think I'm too old for that kind of thing. I want a steadier, more stable relationship than Harry seems able or maybe even willing to provide." The thought made him heavy-hearted; they'd had four good years together. He'd been hoping for a lifetime more. "And of course, I never told him my intentions or how I felt about him, which makes me twice the fool."

One could see from her glare at him where he got his from. "Severus Snape! Since when did you _ever_ feel sorry for yourself? I assure you, it's most unbecoming. Now leave off the 'little Nellie' act and talk to me. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong!"

He chuckled; no one scolded quite like Cerise, and made you feel good about it afterwards. "Oh all right. It started a bit over a year ago. Our--physical--relationship started to lag, and there were actually long strings of consecutive nights when all we did was sleep. I didn't think much of it at first, but over the subsequent months Harry has become a little more distant, a little less inclined to share or to talk, less interested in the sex and our relationship. He's been very distracted; the only thing not suffering is his studies."

With Harry finishing up his university degree via Owl in the Healing Arts in the evenings and his apprenticeship to Madame Pomfrey during the days, it took very little for Severus to imagine Harry was tired all the time. And with good reason given what he was trying to accomplish. He laughed, shaking his head. "As often as I exhorted him to better academics when he was still a student at Hogwarts, I can't believe I'm grousing about his dedication to his studies now."

She laughed with him, a merry sound in the deserted corridor. "Well it does seem a bit silly, coming from you," she declared.

Severus continued, "No, I suppose my first mistake was to leave him be and just offer a warm haven on those nights he staggered in and fell into bed asleep before he was even horizontal. Although, I've always found it rather kills the mood when the other person is snoring through the whole thing." His lips held a parody of a smile. "And I'd thought it was readily apparent there were many times I would've preferred him studying the fascinating uses of skin and friction with me rather than the properties of bandages and poultices by himself." His levity gave way to worry. "I have to wonder now if Harry saw it that way at all, or if he thought I was ignoring him?"

She gave a low chuckle. "Who, you? Ignore that delicious boy? This I cannot imagine." When he failed to respond, the amusement faded from her face. "I am curious, though. Why didn't you get involved with his school work? You are a teacher after all."

"I'm his lover, Cerise, not his teacher, at least not in this." He stopped and took a steadying breath; getting irritated with her would serve no purpose other than hurting her. He noted the careworn lines around her eyes and mouth had deepened into an almost sad expression he'd caused more often than he cared to admit during his younger days whenever he'd been careless or hateful with his words.

His even tone his only apology, he continued, "I try to keep my nose out of it. I hate people reading over my shoulder and was just trying to give Harry every consideration I would want. In terms of Harry's chosen profession, I have very little to do with it other than answering questions when asked and grading a potion he may need for a class. Actually, I've been pleased to do so; Harry has turned out quite talented in that regard. It's a rare moment when I have to make him start over and do it again. It's really too bad he applied himself so late in his schooling; he'd have made a fine Potions Master."

Cerise almost hid her smile. "Somehow I can't see you living with the 'competition', Severus."

He chuckled. "You're right again. As it turns out, I think my assumption, in the long run, has proved correct because Harry leaves me well alone in my work, except to occasionally come down to the lab in the evenings, sometimes to help with the preparations but mostly to keep me company before we retire together." He thought sadly, _'I'd always considered those long evenings together in the lab a type of subtle foreplay, certainly a most satisfactory experience.'_ He shook his head at the thought, "Or at least he used to."

In fact, Severus was very pleased with the intellectual side of their relationship as well. After sifting through all the layers Harry had built up around him, Severus had found, at the core, an extremely intelligent young man with a love for puzzles and mysteries of all kinds.

Cerise startled him out of his reverie. "You know, you never did tell me how you two got together. One day you were your irascible lonely self, the next you had Harry Potter. You left an awful lot missing in the middle."

Severus retorted with heated disbelief, "Cerise, you don't expect me to stand here all bloody night and give you the blow-by-blow, do you?"

She coughed politely. "Are you a wizard or not, Severus? Quit your grousing. If the seating arrangements displease you, then do something about it. Besides, I don't want the small details, just the juicy ones." She arched her brow at him. "While I admit, I did tell you I wanted you to place me somewhere I could get some rest, I certainly did not count on dying a second time from boredom. Oh, in the beginning it was all right, a few students showed up every now and again with their innocent love play. It was actually rather sweet. A few even came to me for advice, but not anymore."

She gave him the pouting moue so many men had fallen prey to. "And it's all your fault I'm so alone now--you chased all the lovers away. It's been months since anyone passed this way--surely you can keep me company for a little while longer?" she wheedled.

Snape rolled his eyes and sighed at her low chuckle. Resigned, he looked around the corridor. Spying a bench further down, a simple flick of his wand and a muttered spell found the seat floating over to him to settle in front of her life-size, seated portrait. He then lowered the frame so they were almost eye-to-eye. "Better?" he asked, his lips twitching.

"Infinitely. This is quite cosy. Now if I just had a drop of whiskey--?" She laughed. "No? Well, I suppose I can make do with the tea you and the painter thought more suitable for me--"

He winced and decided to ignore the old jibe. The painter had put it in before he could correct him--Cerise liked her fire whiskey. He cleared his throat. "Harry started out in Auror training--not, mind you, he'd been allowed much of a choice given who he was _and_ that damned prophesy. With the defeat of Voldemort over four years ago, Harry'd been so weary of all the fighting and the deaths, he decided not to continue as an Auror--much to the dismay of almost everyone involved. Excepting Albus and me. We'd both been at his side when Voldemort finally fell; only we truly knew what the victory had cost him."

He conjured up a table and a pitcher of water with a glass. "We'd all looked forward to the next stages of our lives--some more than others. Harry's resulting emptiness after the last battles was how I stole him in the first place."

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Part I Severus to Snape

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part I : Severus  
**Chapter Two : Severus to Snape**

**Wednesday : 9 June 1999**

The afternoon he began his theft, Snape had received his pardon and commendation from Minister Fudge up in Dumbledore's office. He was, for the first time in a very long time, in a Very Good Mood. Just seeing Fudge's barely concealed loathing as he hesitantly handed over the documents as if hoping it wasn't true, had almost been worth the wait. He'd received Fudge's false praise and half-hearted acknowledgment concerning his efforts in the war against Voldemort with all the humility of the cobra eating the mongoose. He'd been so downright wicked, Dumbledore had given him one of _those_ looks. All in all, it had been very satisfying.

Snape had left the Headmaster's domain via the revolving stair while placing a protective spell on the priceless documents guaranteeing his freedom. He was taking no chances of them _mysteriously disappearing_ in the event Fudge overcame his brief moment of lucidity and fell back into his more normal imbecility. Once down in the main corridor he was about to go back to his solitary quarters in the dungeons to toast his success when he'd sensed a _presence_ almost on the edge of sight. _'There'_--There on his left and moving in the opposite direction.

It was a familiar feeling--one he'd experienced many times in the last eight years. Harry Potter was roaming the hallways in his invisibility cloak. He had no clue as to why, of all the people in the world, he was sensitive to this one particular annoying brat, nor did he understand why he could always sense him under the cloak. And he'd been under orders from Dumbledore, both when Harry had been a student, and later when he'd stayed on to help Dumbledore plan his strategy, to leave Harry be, to not 'uncloak' him, as it were. Albus had always asserted that Harry was on _business_ when he used it.

While Severus knew this _might_ have been true (although given Harry's propensity for trouble, he'd always had his doubts) with the defeat of Voldemort last month and the well known relationship between a certain Gryffindor and a certain Slytherin, Severus knew better. In a flash of inspiration, Severus became Snape and with fiendish delight, he decided it was finally time to gain his last victory over the Potter whelp. _'The only business he's after right now is **my** business.'_

Of course, he followed him.

Snape was, if nothing else, exceptionally talented at sneaking. After all, he'd had years of practice working and spying amongst the Death Eaters and Voldemort _and_ surviving, which required an instinctive habit of fading into the shadows to glean the information he'd not been privy to but needed anyway. He hated the word _spying_--it reminded him too much of voyeurism. He much preferred the phrase _opportunistic observation_. It sounded less _déclass_.

Harry continued unconcernedly down the hall, heading for the lesser used portions of the castle, near one of the secret entrances to the Slytherin rooms. _'Now this is curious. Has Draco dared give a Gryffindor the pass codes to the hidden passages? Most intriguing and enough to earn him some rather unpleasant consequences from his house mates if they ever find out, his much vaunted position not withstanding. A most un-Slytherin thing to do if he did.'_

Harry paused by one of the entrances and waited patiently, making no move to enter. Within moments the wall opened, and Draco cautiously stepped out closing it shut behind him. He paused and seemed to sniff the air.

Looking around, he asked, "Potter? You came alone? You weren't followed?"

Harry pulled the cloak off of his head and with it and his head seeming to float up by itself in the air, he exclaimed with asperity, "You and your bloody paranoia. Who would bother, and how would they know anyway with the cloak? What's the rush? All I said in my note was I needed to see you. I didn't mean this instant."

"You'd be surprised. Snape has, on several occasions, muttered he knows you're out there; he can _smell_ you," Draco shot back.

"Why are you concerned? Ashamed already of being seen with a Gryffindor?" he asked, his laugh forced.

"No, I am never ashamed of anything I do; however, this is _my_ business. It's none of Snape's concern what I do with my time. I have not seen him around all day, and I want to make sure my private life stays private." Draco replied with his usual disdain.

"Well, no worries this afternoon. I heard he's up in Dumbledore's office celebrating with the Minister," Harry replied more evenly. "C'mon, we really will attract attention if we keep standing here."

"Not to mention you would make Nearly Headless Nick weep with just your head bobbing along as it is," Draco smirked, taking him suddenly into a close embrace. He purred, "As to the rush, well--" He pulled him closer and gave him a lingering kiss, full of desire. It was not long before Harry responded, their tight stance speaking of a familiar intimacy. "It's not often you tell me you _need_ me," he continued huskily. 

When Draco pulled away slightly, his tongue licking Harry's bottom lip, he bent his head to nip Harry's neck below the ear and missed the look of disquiet on Harry's face even as he threw his head back to give Draco a larger canvas to work on. "Only to talk--to--you--Ahhh--So Good--"

As he obliged with sucking nips to the base of Harry's throat, leaving small red bruises, Draco's hands dropped lower pulling them closer and at Harry's involuntary groan whispered, "Easy, lover. Let's go somewhere we can continue this in private." He ground their hips together, eliciting a groan from them both and took one final bite out of Harry's neck before turning slowly, his hand on his arse giving him one final squeeze.

Harry looked dazed and as Draco turned completely away, Snape caught the dawning dismay in Harry's eyes, quickly hidden. They moved down the corridor, side by side, deeper into the unused portions of the castle, their quiet conversation fading as they went.

Snape waited for them to move on. _'Now that was most fascinating. Mr. Malfoy seems to have missed the little sentiments Mr. Potter couldn't hide. Perhaps his affections are not as secure as he thinks? Would serve him right, the arrogant git.'_ Checking to make sure he was not followed, he went after them.

Snape didn't bother to keep up. He knew where they were going and even if he was wrong, Draco's white hair, shining in the late afternoon sun pouring through the high windows on one side of the corridor, was clearly visible down the hallway. He was almost proud of Draco's paranoid search every few moments to check for someone following them, even as he cursed his watchfulness; however, if Snape could outwit his wilier, more experienced father, this young pup wouldn't prove any real challenge.

And he'd been right.

They'd entered a deserted classroom popular with the Slytherin for their little rendezvous. Its location and purpose were well known to Snape; however, his students might have been shocked to learn he knew of it but chose to remain silent and in his own way, approved. Their trysts and machinations had always amused him and he checked on them only to make sure they were staying out of trouble and remained undisturbed for the most part. So many of his students came from unhappy homes; he could not begrudge them the few sparks of pleasure they were able to glean in their youth before position, prestige, and power moulded them into miserable shadows of their parents.

Draco, however, was in a class by himself. Difficult, arrogant, and possibly unredeemable. He was not a pale shadow of his father, he saw fit to try and outshine him; something, as far as Snape was concerned, he'd not yet succeeded. The charisma and baseness necessary were very much in evidence, as was the ambition, and Snape had no doubt Draco would eventually succeed. Time was on his side.

This late afternoon, though, Draco seemed to be having some difficulties. As Snape positioned himself just to the right of the door jamb, instead of the rustle of clothing and heavy breathing he'd expected, he heard an argument in progress through the open door. _'I suppose I should be grateful their distraction is such, they left the door open.'_ Listening to them argue, he again wondered where the appeal was. _Frankly, other than his considerable physical attributes, I don't see what attraction the offensive git holds for Potter. I'd not thought him that shallow. Perhaps it's the tired old adage of the moth to the flame.'_

Involved with his own suppositions, something he rarely allowed himself when he was stalking someone, he vaguely heard Harry lower his voice and say something about his classes. In the startled silence following his words, Snape had perked up and really started listening--the tenor of their 'discussion' had changed and felt more like the calm before a storm.

"What do you mean you've quit the Auror training? You can't do that!" Draco sounded like he was shouting in the hushed silence.

Snape was startled by the answer.

His voice tired but emphatic, Harry replied, "Too late, I already did. Handed in my notice to Dumbledore this morning to give to Fudge this afternoon. I'm so tired of the killing, Draco, so tired of the violence. I just want out."

Snape leaned against the wall, thinking, _'Interesting. Brave boy, bucking the entire Ministry. They won't be pleased. Five points to Potter for being a typical Gryffindor.'_

Draco's jarring rejoinder took a life of its own. "What in the bloody hell do you think you're going to do if you're not going to continue as an Auror? I certainly hope you don't think someone is going to notice your paltry skills as a Seeker and just wing you onto a Quidditch Team? You're not that good. Or maybe you can be some second rate chemist's assistant? Snape would just love that. What are you fit for? Nothing!"

_'Bad form, Draco,'_ Snape thought, knowing the tirade was baseless; Harry might be many things but stupid was not one of them, although he would never let on about it to him directly. _Ten points from Malfoy for not playing pretty_.

Harry sounded defeated. "I know that Draco. I have no real skills to speak of, except being exceptionally lucky at staying alive and killing other people. I do both rather well." He sighed, "I'll think of something. I have some money put by, to see me through for a while, until I can figure out what it is I want to do."

"Well, don't look to me for support," Draco sneered.

_'Ah my boy, I see the fuck-up faerie has visited you again. Fifty points from Draco for rank stupidity and potentially alienating an ally.'_ Snape risked a peek around the door frame. Harry was propped up against the desk in the front of the classroom, his folded arms and studied casualness familiar to Snape; he had seen the same stance many times when he'd really pissed the boy off. Draco stood taut in front of him, his body almost vibrating with his agitation.

"Wouldn't dream of it, _Malfoy_," Harry retorted sharply, his dislike evident in his voice.

Draco was instantly apologetic as if he knew he'd stepped over the line. "I'm sorry, Harry, you took me by surprise. You know how I hate surprises. We'll figure something to get you out of _this_ mess," Draco growled, sounding affectionate. "Come here, I'll make it better." He tried to pull Harry into another embrace to continue where they'd left off from the hallway.

Snape's head snapped back into concealment. _'He's lying. He KNEW.'_ This disturbed Snape more than anything else. Unable to resist, he looked around the opening again.

Harry was not cooperating. He firmly held the other young man at arm's length, saying quietly, "Not now, Draco. I don't feel much like it."

_'Very good, Mr. Potter. Never reward idiocy. Ten points to Gryffindor.'_

"Oh, come on lover. I said I was sorry. I wasn't thinking. I like working with you. I'm going to miss seeing you all the time. Won't you miss me, even just a little?" he wheedled, trying to steal another kiss.

Harry kissed him gently. Draco moved in for more, a stronger, rougher kiss than before, trying to nip Harry's bottom lip. Harry, obviously disappointed Draco was not listening to him, stepped away, pacing. "Draco, please understand, this is not what I want, either. I thought we'd discussed this. I'm not--comfortable--with what you've been trying lately."

He turned and confronted him, "Draco, this bondage thing has got to stop. I don't--" He started over, "I don't enjoy it, it doesn't excite me, in fact it's quite a turn-off. I'm not saying I want moonlight and roses either," he chuckled, "but I don't quite see pain as the other side of pleasure the way you do. Can't we just have a normal relationship? Or find a compromise, one where we both like it? One that does not require pain potions and hot baths the next day?" he asked plaintively.

Draco made a low sound in his throat and commented. Snape couldn't hear what he said, but it was obviously favourable because Harry let him embrace him close, as Draco obliged him, the ensuing kiss sweet and tender. Harry leaned into it, their bodies melting into each other. Draco pulled him closer, their breathing heavy. Snape decided to leave them to it and was about to turn away, when Harry suddenly pulled away with a sharp exclamation. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; there was a small streak of red across it.

"Ow, Draco! Goddamn it, how many times do I have to tell you--no marks." He looked at the blood on his hand and his fingers felt the raised bruises on his throat from before. "If that's all you're capable of anymore, then I don't want any. I'm not into it. Just leave me alone."

Draco's hands moved wildly in the air as he exclaimed, "Damn you Potter. I am who I am. No different that I was when we first met. You led me on." In a tinny voice he mimicked, "'Oh, that's not what I want'." He continued, in a rage, "That's not what you showed me last night. Screamed your bloody head off, you did. How many times did you come, Potter? How much did you beg?" Draco paced the floor in front of Harry, angry, like a caged feline.

He whirled around to face him, "You know what I am. Why the bloody hell did you agree to meet with me, tell me you needed me, if you knew you didn't want any?"

Harry's voice was so quiet, Snape had to strain to hear him. "I didn't tell you I needed you, I said I needed to _talk_ to you. There _is_ a difference, you know. _Talk_ Draco--not shag, not kiss, and certainly not any bloody biting. I thought maybe you should hear the news from me directly, in person, instead of from someone else."

Draco snapped, his voice catching, "Next time, send me an Owl." He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, his cruel words hanging in the air behind him.

Snape barely had time to get out of the way, dodging into the shadows, but Draco was so upset, he forgot to look at what was around him in plain view. One look at Draco's face was all it took for him to note the rage mingled with an indefinable emotion; if his teary face was any indication, he really cared for Harry but hadn't a clue how to proceed.

Snape shook his head. _'I don't think he'll ever learn a graceful exit if it walked into him.'_

Standing boldly in the doorway for a few moments, Snape knew Harry wouldn't notice him either. There was no real reason for him to be on his guard, not now, not here, and his shaky voice had left Snape with the notion he was as upset as Draco. He was right. Harry looked dazed and bereft. Severus replaced Snape in that moment, the memories of his own youthful losses sharp and, without a sound, he turned and left Harry alone with his thoughts.

****

Snape eschewed his normal nightly walk to sit quietly in his rooms in front of a small fire with Horatio, his Black Kingsnake, coiled in his lap with bits of him draped over the arms of the wingback chair he favoured. He had a few thoughts of his own and after much inner debate, decided he would talk to Draco and see what, if anything, he could do to help. _'Merlin knows Lucius never shed any tears. Perhaps the younger version is salvageable after all. That's assuming the tears were not a clever ruse to manipulate Potter; one can never tell with Draco without some close observation.'_

Oh yes, he would observe Draco most closely tomorrow.


	3. Part I Uncle Sevvy

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part I : Severus  
**Chapter Three : Uncle Sevvy**

**Thursday : 10 June 1999**

Snape summoned Draco the next afternoon to his office after hearing of some heated arguments in the Slytherin common room that morning. _'Just the opening I need without having to be too obvious, or gods forbid, chance the revelation I'd witnessed their little rendezvous. No, a discussion on Malfoy's 'points' will be the perfect lead-in.'_

Snape had his own _point_ system for the lower form students as well as the graduate students, who were either like Malfoy--at risk in the outside world because he'd defied his Death Eater parents, or like Potter--in danger because of who he was. They and others had stayed for Auror training in the Defense Arts and fought out of Hogwarts. As a condition of their safety, they had to adhere to the same rules they had for their lower years, although they were excused from the curfew.

A prank well-thought out, which lost points outside the house, would usually earn points inside but could lose them if mismanaged. Ambition was rewarded but not at the expense of allies; enemies were, of course, fair game. Severus' points were about thought. The Slytherins could appeal, of course, but their arguments had to be near perfect for him to change his mind. So far, of this batch, only Blaise and Draco had ever succeeded in appealing points over the years.

Draco entered his office with the same intrepid mien many Slytherins wore while mentally rummaging through all their recent transgressions, trying to find the one drawing the private interview with their Head of House. Snape relished the look and made every effort to at least seem like he knew what all those sins were. Father Confessor he was, deliverer of penances. He let Draco squirm a few minutes in silence; he knew he wouldn't be the one to break it.

Draco broke first. "About this morning, sir," he began, "Pansy had it coming. The stupid bitch just wouldn't leave me alone. Pick, pick, pick. I had to do it, sir. She'll get it back by tomorrow."

Snape regarded him from half-closed eyes. "Zeroed-out, Mr. Malfoy. Five for unbecoming language, ten for lack of control, and ten more for removing Miss Parkinson's mouth however deserved it may have been." 

_'Might even be a good time for her to start that diet she's always whinging about,'_ he thought uncharitably. "I suggest you do something useful for a while to bring your score up before we start discussing the other incidents this morning." He paused to let it sink in, carefully watching Malfoy's reactions. _'Good, I have his attention and his anger. I can work with that.'_

"Now tell me, why? Not what happened, not what you did. These occurrences are much too petty to upset the calm contemptuousness I've come to expect out of you. They're mere trifles. What's upset you enough to lose your much vaunted control, Draco? What _external_ influences affect you so?" His voice was low and silky, inviting confidences.

Draco turned his head to the side with a sly contemplative face. Snape knew the look well--Draco was unsure of how much he should say, how much Snape knew. The consideration of his enemy's knowledge before replying was one of the few things he admired about the young man. "Potter, sir. It's Potter," he finally said, stealing a glance as if to see how it had been received.

"Mr. Potter?" he mused, feigning deep thought, "How is it possible Potter, of all people, has got under your skin?"

Draco lowered his eyes, seemingly shy, but Severus had caught the glint of subterfuge. He'd not been a spy for nothing. He could read better men's hearts and motives from farther away than he was now from this young upstart. He narrowed his eyes when Draco said quietly, "I love him, sir," his hand pleating the full sleeve of his robes.

He briefly watched Draco's restless hands, the way they moved to the desk, clenched into fists and then were willed open, the fingers still white with tension. Draco would not meet his eyes; they roamed all over the space behind Snape, anywhere but on his face. Severus mentally snorted, his own 'senses' pricked, _'What a liar. I hate liars.'_ He raised a brow, a small smile twisting his lips. "Really, Mr. Malfoy? Do tell," he drawled, sounding unconvinced.

Panic and something akin to desperation flashed across Draco's face and he made a visible effort to calm himself. Grey eyes finally met obsidian when he said, "Really, Professor. We've been lovers for months."

_'Panic? How interesting.'_ The sight of it started a new train of thought below their conversation. He knew it was significant, just as he knew his back brain would figure it out eventually. In the meantime, he needed to goad some further responses out of the insolent Hooray. He waved his hand dismissively. "Mr. Malfoy, having sex is _not_ being in love. I would've thought you could appreciate the difference by now," he said sanguinely, referring to the many lovers Draco had claimed over the years.

Interested in the cold calculation Draco let slip, Snape sat up and leaned forward, his hands folded calmly on the desk in front of him. "Mr. Malfoy, I am neither blind nor stupid." The intensity of his words and his unexpectedly fierce glare made Draco suck in a breath and hold it. "If you wish to deceive the rest of the world about your _affections_, then by all means do so but do not _ever_ make the mistake again of trying to do so with me."

Draco let out the breath he was holding in a rush, making a noisy sigh. Severus smiled inside even as a twist came to his lips, "I can easily accept Potter may be a good lay and can even stretch it to think you may even hate him less than you do everyone else, but you're by no means _in love_ with him and we both know it. Be careful whom you choose as your playmates, Draco. Children have been killed in the yard, even in _innocent_ play."

Snape could see Draco heard the unspoken words, _'And you're no innocent'_, with a shudder. _'This is no child's game he is playing then,'_ Snape thought, watching Draco's badly shaken confidence return in slow stages.

Draco sighed, obviously trying a different tack. "You may very well be right, sir, but there's something about Potter that draws me, like a moth to a flame. I can't seem to stay away." 

Snape was taken aback to hear his own comments of the day before oozing out of Draco's sentiments. He had a dawning suspicion Draco was deliberately misdirecting him as to who was the moth and who was the flame. There was also Malfoy's reaction to his words about killing to consider. This needed thought and his back brain was clamouring for attention. "You're drawn to his power, like many others before you," he stated implacably. This was an interesting piece of the puzzle; it dovetailed neatly into others on the back burner. The urge to get rid of Draco was almost overwhelming. "Heed my words, Mr. Malfoy, and take great care you don't get burned by the flame you so assiduously nurse."

Eyeing him carefully, "May I go now, sir," Draco drawled insolently.

Snape hesitated, thinking it might be amusing to see him squirm for a while, but he had too much to consider to truly enjoy it. "By all means, _Mr._ Malfoy. Always a pleasure to _chat_ with you. And don't think I've forgot all the other _lovely_ things you've got into _recently_. You're seriously overdrawn in the point bank."

Draco threw him a sharp glance before rising from the chair in front of the desk, making his hasty retreat.

_'That was charming,'_ Severus mused, leaning back in his chair with his legs sprawled wide under the desk. The back burner was working overtime, so he cleared his mind of extraneous thoughts and just let it simmer. Two things rapidly became evident--Draco was up to no good concerning Potter; there was an oily, almost evil feel to the whole incident. The other was Draco's startled reactions to the mention of "killing" and "innocence". The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was; Malfoy intended to harm Harry. 

His ruminations ran to the day before. Draco had somehow known about Harry's defection from the ranks. And Malfoy was too good a player to have made the stupid mistakes he appeared to have made. Had Draco truly been involved with Harry, he might have seen it as a possibility, but given he'd made all but an open admission as to his true feelings for Potter, the whole thing stank of collusion. _'With someone inside? Certainly not Harry. Or perhaps--outside?'_ he speculated, almost convinced he was on the right track. _'This is odd. Is it possible? Draco not working for his own agenda?'_ Putting it together with the other things he'd observed, he began to get an ugly portrait of Malfoy's potential intentions. 

He snorted at his own folly. _'But why?'_ He couldn't shake the notion Harry was in danger. Over the past years he'd learned to trust his instincts when working with the young man; it had saved both their lives on several occasions. His hackles were raised now, the warning clear. _'Draco is the danger.'_ He knew this with the same certainty of danger he'd felt the day they'd killed Voldemort last month.

He got up from his chair and started to pace, hoping the blood flow to his brain would rid him of such ridiculous notions. _'I'm getting too old for this when the babes are playing the same games as the adults. Only the 'babes' are now adults as well, aren't they?.'_ Which made the whole thing even more unlikely. _'Can't give it up, can you Severus? Always seeing the conspiracies? Paranoid bugger, aren't you?'_ However, the little nagger residing in the back scolded him with equal force; his paranoia had saved his life too many times to be entirely ignored. The words spiralled through his head, convincing him a revelation was near.

_'Enough! This is getting me nowhere. Too many thoughts. They need to simmer a while longer before I can sort any kind of coherency out of them.'_ He left his office, surprised to note the sun was long gone, dinner but a memory. _'Good thing I'm not really hungry. Well, it's almost time for my nightly rounds anyway. The walk should also help clear the cobwebs and get these fanciful thoughts out of my head.'_

****

He roamed the hallways, lost deep in his thoughts. The few students who scampered out of his way were bemused by his silence, his lack of biting response and flogging comments about their being out-of-bounds. They heaved huge sighs of relief as he passed and went back to what they were doing, the excitement of almost getting caught enhancing their nighttime activities. Snape would have been appalled had he known how 'stimulating' his ghostlike presence had been.

He made his way up to the Astronomy Tower and climbed onto the battlement where the telescopes were set up at night. Making his rounds, he was about to leave when he got that _feeling_ again; Potter was here. He sharpened his attention, settling on a spot halfway up the walkway at one of the crenelations. Given the thickness of the walls, he was probably sitting in it. _'Hmmm, left or right?'_ The left one _felt_ better, so he made his way down to it, sitting in the notched opening, facing inwards. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"It's too cloudy for any real sky-watching this evening, don't you think, Mr. Potter?" The heavy sigh was not unexpected.

A disembodied voice wearily said, "I guess I should be glad House Points are no longer an issue."

Severus snorted, "No, they're not, but that doesn't mean you should be here in any event. And I must point out, it's very _unsettling_ having a conversation with thin air. You may be an adult now, but your manners leave much to be desired."

Harry gave a dry chuckle, "I suppose it is, but I like it this way. It's less--complicated."

Severus smiled wryly. "Very well, since you've voluntarily left your manners in your rooms, I suppose I can leave mine there as well. Tell me, Potter, why are you here?"

The normal snide quality of his voice was missing and he could sense Harry hesitating, unsure of his motives. Snape couldn't honestly blame him--his reputation for biting comments, especially to him, was well earned. He snorted in amusement; the resigned sigh coming out of the darkness told him Harry had decided it would make no difference. Honesty coloured his voice as he replied, "I'm sure you've heard I've left the Auror training and that a certain person was extremely unhappy with me about it."

"Ah yes, Mr. Malfoy. I would venture to say 'unhappy' might be a tad understated. He spent the better part of this morning defending your honour and his relationship with you to the rest of his housemates who, I might add, are mystified as to what he sees in you that brings out such a heated response." He waited for a reply, quite curious.

"I don't know why he would bother. It's not like we're in love or anything," Harry stated flatly.

_'That's unexpected given what I saw yesterday, but confirms what I suspected given what I know of Draco.'_ He kept his voice even as he asked, "So you _don't_ have a relationship?"

"We fuck. We fight. I'm not sure that qualifies as a _relationship_," he said. As if expecting a reprimand, Harry apologised, "Sorry, Professor."

Severus laughed outright, a mocking sound made often around the staff but never before the students. "No apologies are necessary, Potter. I only wish I'd seen some of my own dalliances with such clarity. How long have the two of you been--together." He found himself hoping it had not been too long.

"Not long at all, a little over five months, I think," he replied.

Severus did some mental calculations. _'That's longer than we thought and about the time our raids became less effective. Bloody hell, what is Harry into now? How serious **is** this affair?'_ He suddenly found he had to know. "Since I'm being inexcusably nosy, I have to assume from your statement that you _don't_ love him?" he asked, the answer, for whatever reason, was important to him. _'And why would I care beyond the implications to the Order?'_ he chided himself.

Not noticing the intimacy of the question, Harry talked to himself out loud. "Hmph. Love? No. Lust? Definitely, he has his talents. Draco doesn't love me, never has. He wants something; what I haven't a clue. His reaction yesterday made that perfectly clear, and to be honest I think his whole response at my withdrawal from the Auror training was more about something I couldn't give him anymore than it was about losing contact with me."

_'Very observant, better than I would've given you credit for.'_ He added it to the pile on the back burner. He was curious about Harry's take on what he'd seen the day before. "What _was_ his reaction?"

Snape could almost feel his shrug. "Other than the usual shouting, making me feel worthless, and expecting to fuck my brains out afterwards as my reward for being such a good little victim? It was pretty tame."

For the first time since they'd started this conversation, Severus was at a loss. _'What does one say to something like that?'_ He gamely waded in. "Well, I certainly hope you did _not_ reward him."

Harry's smile lit up his voice, "Not this time. I think that pissed him off more than anything else. But I was--" He stopped suddenly as if remembering who he was talking to, "--I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with all this."

"Actually, it's not too much of a bother, but I admit to some curiosity. Why _are_ you talking to me about it?

He again felt the shrug. "I don't know, it's almost like talking to yourself, only getting better advice than you would've received had _you_ answered."

Severus chuckled at the statement. He actually understood it. "What advice do you think you need?" he finally asked.

"I don't know. I say that a lot, don't I?" He laughed shortly. "I was sitting here earlier thinking it would be so easy to just tip over the edge and not have to worry about it any more."

Severus sat up in alarm. _'Good gods!'_

Harry chuckled. "Don't panic. It's only thoughts. I wouldn't do it; I'm either too scared or too stupid depending on my frame of mind at the time."

"You've thought of this often?" He held his breath for the answer. He might just have a bigger problem than Mr. Malfoy.

Harry sighed. "A few times, not often. It's just--you know I thought it would be different somehow."

"What would be different?"

"This whole Voldemort thing. I thought we'd be done with him and then things would be--different. Only they're not. But they are."

Severus began to get a glimmer of what was happening and it made him angry they'd not seen it coming. "I think I see what you mean. He'd be gone and everything would change for the better? The job's finished, time to get on with your life?"

His voice faltered and he continued on slowly, more to himself than to Harry, "Only the job's still there, but you're tired, you don't want to do it anymore. However, it's all you do, all you _are_. The entire picture of yourself has been wrapped up in one future moment, one goal, one act. And when it's finished, done and over, all you're left with is the emptiness. You wonder if you're condemned to forever rest pathetically on a fading past glory, or worse, damned to always do the things you hate the most?"

"What good am I now?" he heard Harry whisper. "It's all I have and I don't want it anymore."

Severus felt his way along the issue carefully. "It may have been all you've _accomplished_ to this point of your very young life, but it is certainly not all you _have_." He realised he was talking to himself as much as he was to Harry. He continued in a soft but intense voice, "One does not have to be _useful_ to have worth, Harry. Don't _ever_ forget that."

Harry was silent for a long time, obviously thinking on his words. "Yes, it's a whole question of worth, isn't it? Do I have any? Do I have any value left?" he asked quietly. Snape was suspicious he'd not intended to say that last bit out loud.

"Tell me Harry, what is it you like to do? What might you _want_ to do if there were no obstacles?" he asked trying another tack knowing he wasn't going to convince the young man of his _value_ in one moonlit conversation.

"I don't know." he replied, at a loss.

Snape came out to play for a while, replacing the kinder Severus, his voice challenging and sneering, "That's not an answer, Mr. Potter. It's a miserable excuse. Don't tell me you've been out here for hours wasting your time; I don't believe it."

Harry laughed as if it were a huge joke. "Well, that's certainly more in character than 'tell Uncle Sevvy your problems'. It was hard enough to get used to Albus insisting we call each other by our first names when we worked together, but this _concern_ of yours is almost scary," Harry said wryly. "Do I dare tell you, or will you laugh in my face?" Snape made no reply, stunned for once into silence.

Harry hesitated a long moment. "Somehow, I don't think so. There's something different about you tonight. Or with me. There's something different about me tonight." This time his pause felt contemplative and he continued his voice more optimistic, "I'm not sure it's a matter of what I want to do as opposed to what I'm _able_ to do."

Snape decided to ignore his little diatribe and sneered, "That's a poor start; you're still waffling. It's a simple question, even for you, Potter" he retorted, his patience waning.

"Are you always this impatient?" Harry asked heatedly.

"Are you always this obtuse?" Snape shot right back.

They sat in silence a moment. Then the chuckles started.

"You really are a prick, sometimes," Harry commented.

"About damn time you figured it out," Snape snapped. "Now Answer The Question."

"Oh all right, _sir_," he bit out. "Let's start with what I do badly--Potions." He stopped--Snape did not rise to his bait. Harry went on, "History of Magic, and Divination, although I'm not sure that qualifies as something one can make a living at, though Trelawney sure tries hard enough." Snape sniggered.

"Next let's look at what I'm not too bad at. Transfigurations, Astronomy, and Herbology." He stopped again. Snape snickered, knowing from the way he ground out every word and with his pauses that this angry Harry was calling him every 'git' in the book. "Then there's what I do pretty well--Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Quidditch, and opening locked cabinets. Now _there_ are some _real_ career opportunities."

"And lest we forget, what I do exceptionally well," he choked on what suspiciously sounded like a sob, "staying alive and either getting other people killed or killing them outright. I do these things very well indeed."

_'Well, that either requires a full answer or none at all.'_ Clearing his throat, Severus said tartly, "Once you decided to set your mind to it, your Potions work was almost adequate. As to the rest--I cannot comment except to the last bit. I think you've taken entirely too much on yourself in that regard."

Enunciating each word clearly, Harry asked bitterly, "How would you know?" 

Severus could feel the long-held anger and self-loathing boil to the surface, threatening to erupt. He stood up and paced the battlement, his voice ringing with his anger and self-disdain. "Did you honestly think _you_ were the _only_ one who did distasteful things during this war? Did you imagine _you_ were the only one to lose friends--lovers--and enemies? The only one who killed with your bare hands or through curses which made your skin crawl for weeks?"

Harry removed his cloak, stunned at the outburst.

"Did you participate in _unspeakable_ events so you could bring back the one dribble of information which could save hundreds even as it sacrificed dozens?" His voice dropped, the anguish evident in it, "_While you watched helpless, unable to stop it?_"

He got off the wall and approached Snape, his broken heart in his face.

"Were you so wrapped up in your secure little Hogwarts it escaped your notice that others _risked_ as much, _suffered_ as much, if not _more_ than you? And of course, you are the only one who _survived_, who walked away from it _injured_, everyone else escaped intact, full of love for themselves and their fellow man. Oh yes, _Mr_. Potter. You are _so_ unique! So vilified. Only _you_ bear the guilt for the _whole_ bloody thing!"

He whirled around, intent on leaving the area, ashamed of his outburst. _'Well, that was one of my finer moments,'_ he thought, his anger now directed entirely at himself. _'I promised myself I wouldn't do this.'_ He almost trod over Harry who was blocking his path.

"Get out of my way," he snarled, moving closer as if to sweep him away.

"I'm so sorry, Severus." Harry whispered, the name still unfamiliar to his tongue, his eyes brimming. "I-I wasn't thinking. It's just--It's just so hard, sometimes--" He bit his bottom lip and hung his head as the tears started to fall. He turned his head away in a futile attempt to stop them, or at the very least, hide them.

"Oh, hell." Severus folded him in his arms, absorbing the younger man's naked sobs in his robes, his own wetting the top of Harry's head. He put his cheek on his hair whispering, "Damn you, Harry. Damn me, too." He tightened his hold even as Harry tightened his and thought, _'We're both damned.'_


	4. Part I The Nagger Within

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part I : Severus  
**Chapter Four : The Nagger Within**

**Friday : 11 June 1999**

Severus woke with a blinding headache the next morning, his head feeling like it was stuffed with carded wool--fuzzy around the edges but with a lingering feeling he'd missed something. Something important. He shrugged, taking a potion off the bed table for the headache. It would come back to him. It always did. 

He lay back in bed a few moments willing the potion to work faster. Horatio slithered across his stomach, tickling it, as the shortest path possible to the small rodent he'd spied in the corner for a light morning snack. He idly thought, _'I'll have to order more rats for him soon, he's almost cleaned them out.'_

As he was getting dressed, he tried very hard (without much success) to forget about the previous evening. _'I fell completely out of character. How stupid. I wonder what rumours will be flying around this morning about how Snape cracked up last night. Lovely. I truly can't wait.'_

He'd let Potter cry himself out (and himself if truth be told) and afterwards, they went through the usual awkwardness one goes through when one receives comfort where not expected. They'd then walked back to their respective quarters not more than a dozen words exchanged the entire time. There'd been the usual clumsy thank you's at the place of parting, neither one able to meet the other's eyes and then it was over. 

He'd made his tired way to the dungeons, his thoughts awhirl with new impressions. He'd collapsed in his bed exhausted in spirit but wakeful nonetheless. Finally giving up, he'd resorted to a sleeping potion, even knowing the side effects, just to stop the feelings and thoughts coursing through his mind.

The headache dulled but not gone, Snape made his way up to the Great Hall. He was running later than normal, although he didn't know why he should be concerned; they had few classes right now and even though it was in the middle of the school year, were more on a Holiday schedule. The smell of food tantalised him as he entered via the staff door. He was uncharacteristically hungry for some reason. He nodded in greeting to Dumbledore as he passed him and sat in his customary seat near Madame Pince.

In the middle of his morning feast of fried eggs, a plump black pudding, and crisp points of toast smothered in Marmite, the little nagger finally bothered him. He slowed down but did not stop as the completed thoughts, finally cooked, came out in sumptuous courses for his conscious digestion.

_'Draco is up to something--forbidden, something to do with Harry, something permanent but has met with some unexpected resistance.'_ He chuckled, earning him a reproving glance from Pince. He didn't care. _'Malfoy has a means of spying on Dumbledore's office and/or has connections in the Ministry.'_ Thoughtfully chewing a bite of his grilled black pudding, he wondered how the two notions could possibly be related. Then it came to him. _'Which Malfoy? While Draco is obviously old enough to spy, he is definitely too young to have made Ministry contacts.'_ He mopped up some of the gooey yolk of his eggs with his toast. _'Lucius? Indubitably. Therefore Draco must be working for his father. Perhaps even earlier for Voldemort?'_ Taking a sip of his tea, he washed down another bite of his sausage. _'Possibly--he and Harry got together before Voldemort was killed. Directly? No, he has never borne the Dark Mark--he must be working solely through Lucius.'_

Even though he was training to be an Auror, Draco was not a member of the Order, but was somehow privy to the Order's counsels. _'So how is he getting the information? From Harry? Ah yes, the Imperius!'_ Swallowing a bite of toast, he chided himself, _'No, that's not right--Harry can throw it off. A new curse then? Or a charm? One we don't know about; something tied to the sex? Albus might know.'_ Mumbling a warming spell on his now luke-warm tea, he took a cautious sip and continued to let the thoughts seep through his head.

_'A Potion? Damned difficult to administer but not impossible; the really dark ones can be quite--palatable.'_ He knew it wasn't _Veritaserum_; Harry was pretty much immune to it--the doses necessary to break through his magic were large enough to knock him senseless.

He carefully put down his knife and fork, the last of his black pudding forgot as a staggering line of thought appeared. _'Perhaps a potion **Draco** takes, the effects of which he passes onto Potter? Not unheard of but very rare, very dark, very dangerous to the one administering it. Can't see Draco taking the risk--unless he doesn't know about it?'_ He had no difficulty whatsoever in imagining Lucius sacrificing his son for the information he could get out of Potter. _'I need to confer with Albus. And Harry must be warned.'_

He suddenly itched, his danger senses alerted. Looking straight ahead to the main doors, he saw Harry and Draco walk in together. Their posture was strange. Harry seemed unconcerned, loose even, whereas he could almost feel the hot rage below Draco's otherwise icy exterior. _'This is disturbing; I thought they'd cooled to each other. I must not delay in talking with Albus.'_ He suited actions to words, standing up abruptly from the table, his appetite gone. As he walked away, he threw a muttered spell at Dumbledore who nodded his head. They would meet in two hours.

****

Snape pulled the book carefully out of the locked cabinet in a large private library connected to the back of his personal study. Fashioned in Wizard Space, Albus jokingly called it "The Darkroom".

In this room were thousands of tomes and scrolls (some made of human skin) Severus had collected over the years in his pursuit of the Dark Arts both before and after his service to the Order. Its existence was known only to Dumbledore. There were more wards on this one room than over the entirety of Hogwarts; some were cast by his own hand from the very pages of the knowledge within, some cast by Dumbledore. Even Voldemort wouldn't have been able to break into it, the contents set to violently explode should anyone try and force the locks.

Snape took the book to a special table in the middle of the stacks, its surface protected against the various evil humours which could escape when the documents were opened. This protection was primarily afforded by a talisman given to him by a former lover, which was embedded in the table top. The door to the room was firmly locked behind him.

This particular book, one of many on obscure potions, posed no overt threat except to the unschooled mind which could be easily trapped were one not careful. He laid the heavy tome in the center of the table and called forth a special transport spell Albus had created. It was a timed Charm and if he did not answer its call at a random interval with the proper counterspell, it would 'port him away to safety and notify Albus there was a problem. He was never too careful when working with the knowledge in this room.

He started turning the pages of the old volume as rapidly as he dared. _'Where is it? Where is it? Paranoid old beggar wouldn't leave a Table of Contents or an Index. Nooo, that would be too easy. I remember it came right after the bleeding potion--'_ Nearing where he thought it might be, he slowed down, skimming the formulas and lurid illustrations he found, _'Ah, there it is.'_

He read the ingredients and the _Schema_. It _was_ dangerous but not so much to the person taking it. _'Insidious but lovely, I do have to admit; the older Dark Potions have an elegance about them we cannot reproduce today. And perfect. I'd wager good odds this is what Draco, excuse me, Lucius is having Draco use.'_

He reread the potion through, fixing it in his mind; the ingredients were easy to procure, the potion simple to make. The Dark Magic ostensibly used to bind it skirted the edge of Light so closely it would not set off the warning wards Albus had in place for such things, which meant Draco could make it himself at Hogwarts. However, its deadly potency was defined by the maker's Dark intent, which would cause nary a twinge in the wards. The subsequently imbued, yet almost invisible, Dark Magic was what made it so cunning.

Closing the book gently, he spoke the counter-wards and placed the volume back on the shelf where he found it. He patted it, making sure it was secured, before he relocked the cabinet it was in. Muttering a quick spell, he temporarily made a small square of wall disappear, letting him see the room beyond. No one was there, so he released the lock and moved into the cooler, cleaner air of his study. The wall shimmered behind him into normalcy.

He went to see Albus.

****

Dumbledore fussed with the tea things. "Severus, so secretive. What can I do for you?"

Severus cast a silencing ward over the office in addition to the ones Dumbledore always had in place. He raised his brows in question. Severus shrugged and said, "I have reason to believe someone has been privy to things spoken only in this room."

Dumbledore was flummoxed. "How on earth--?"

"Albus, you'll just have to trust me on this one, it would take too long to explain. Besides, it's not our more immediate concern."

Dumbledore raised a brow. "There's something more important than the security of my office? Now you're really disturbing me. Please continue."

Severus' slow words belied the urgency he felt, "I have reason to believe Draco Malfoy is planning to harm Mr. Potter and, through him, the Order. I also think Draco has been using some kind of coercion in the manner of a charm or a potion to get Harry to reveal our plans. More specifically, I think he is using the _Basium Excessum Potion_ also know as the _Kiss of Digression_ or _Kiss of Death_ depending on how it is used."

Dumbledore looked perplexed. "All right Severus--I admit, I have never heard of this one. What does it do?"

Snape was pleased he'd stumped him for once. "It _is_ fairly obscure. Simply put, Draco takes the potion and administers it to Harry via the mouth. Kissing, nipping, biting--anything involving direct oral contact with the victim would suffice. Once transferred, the potion makes the recipient pliable to questions. While it does not force the truth, one must be trained, in the same manner as the _Imperius_, to resist it. It causes great pleasure to the receiver, hence it has almost always been a woman's potion used for seduction. It's also been known to make the giver mentally unstable and prone to violence and temper, although that's a rare side-effect and disappears once the ingestion of the potion is stopped."

He hesitated--this was the cunning part. "It is called the "Kiss of Death" because the potioner can turn poisoner just by continual contact with the prey, usually through biting. Thus, with intention, the potion turns to poison. Actually quite elegant but equally insidious. If I'm right, Harry's withdrawal from the Aurors may be placing him in serious jeopardy."

"This _is_ a serious matter. What do you base it on?" Dumbledore sipped his tea, his eyes intent on Severus.

"Do you remember about five months ago, when our raids started falling through? Moody commented at the time it was like someone had been reading our Owls? You added the extra wards to your office in the event the leak was here?" At Dumbledore's nod, he continued. "I found out yesterday--Harry and Draco have been together longer than we thought--the same amount of time as our failures--almost to the day."

"This is most grievous. What other links did you discover?" Severus could tell Dumbledore was dying to find out _how_ Severus had obtained his information, but was biting his tongue on his curiosity; Severus concluded that, like most of the information he'd given him over the years, it was probably better he not know.

"Mr. Malfoy's and Mr. Potter's relationship is not all it seems on the surface. Both admit there is little to no emotional entanglement. Draco, though, lies about it, whereas Harry is quite honest and feels Draco is after something from him, but he doesn't know what. However, from what I observed, Draco is inordinately angry over Harry's defection from the Aurors, well beyond what one would normally expect out of a domineering partner, which I'm not sure he is. It's almost as if he's afraid. _I'm_ afraid Lucius is involved in this somehow."

Dumbledore was quiet. "Severus, do you have any proof?" When he shook his head, Albus sighed. "That's most unfortunate. We have been friends and colleagues for a great many years, and if anyone else had brought me these conclusions I would commit them to St. Mungos." He looked hard at Severus. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Severus looked out the window onto the moors beyond. "Albus, nothing is sure in this life--even life itself. Ask me the odds of my conjecture, ask me to show you more of the logic, but to ask me for surety? No, Albus, I'm not sure."

"If it were anyone else--" He sighed again and folded his hands on the desk. "However, your ideas have never been the sunspots of delusion. I promise I'll look into it, especially for the possibility of a charm or curse we might have missed. Embedded in the sex? No, the potion makes more sense--" his voice trailed off. "It makes more sense than a charm and bears looking into, but we can't do more, my friend, unless we find something tangible. With Lucius singing like the yard bird survivor he is, we must tread carefully. Despite our triumph, Fudge is still making trouble. It's vital we capture _and try_ the Death Eaters Lucius is betraying. Although--although--if what you say is true, then he's not giving us the inner circle. Yes, it bears looking into."

He looked over at Snape, his eyes distressed. "I'm sorry, merely the ruminations of a tired old man. Thank you Severus. Do you want to warn Harry, or shall I?"

"I'll do it. I've--other--matters to discuss with him anyway."

"Oh?" Dumbledore raised his brow at the statement.

Snape faltered. "Yes, like his career choices among other things."

"Ah yes, his letter of resignation threw Fudge for a loop, it did. I've never seen him so mad. Even when you were baiting him earlier that same day." He eyed him kindly over the half-moon spectacles. "I could have cheerfully throttled you, you know. Between your skillful gibes and Harry's letter, it took me an extra hour of his odious company to calm him down."

Snape looked as sheepish as he was ever going to get. "Sorry, didn't much think on that."

"No harm done, and it was amusing at the time." He chuckled, his smile genuine. "And thank you for taking over the onerous task of helping Mr. Potter choose a new career, although I admit I'm a bit surprised you would bother, given your past history with him. It saves me a spot of work since McGonagall has been unable to get much of a reply out of him. With her away on school business and this new situation--I don't want to wait. He's been uncommonly cagey about the whole thing."

_'Cagey? More like scared spitless,'_ he thought. "I assure you, no one is more shocked by the offer than I," he said on a short bark of laughter.

Dumbledore gave him one of those infuriating smiles he'd pay dearly to forcefully remove. He noticed Albus pointedly glancing at the stack of papers on his desk. He took the hint.

Snape stood up and made his way to the door. "I'll be going Albus. Thank you for your time."

"Anytime, dear boy, anytime," he said as Snape walked out the door. He shook his head and bent to his tedious paperwork.

****

School was still not back in session. With everything in disarray, all the students who could were back home with their families; however, the older students remained and Dumbledore decided they needed to continue their studies regardless, so their classes had resumed. It gave them all a reason to turn the last few unreal weeks into something approaching normalcy, as well as the opportunity to catch up the missing month's worth of studies. The mornings were usually devoted to rebuilding the castle, which had taken serious damage during the last battle, the remaining students working side by side with the faculty and other specialists. The afternoons were double classes--one per day--or rest periods.

His interview with Albus had killed Snape's appetite for anything other than solitary thought. _'I suppose I could be better occupied by helping with the renovations, but right now that has about as much appeal as eating lunch with the First Year Gryffindors.'_ So when he returned from Dumbledore's office, he sat idle in his classroom ruminating still on the situation with Potter. _'On second thought, maybe that lunch might be more pleasant, after all,'_ he thought, the vision of insipid Gryffindor fledglings dancing through his head. _'It's enough to put someone off their feed for life.'_

Severus knew that until he found a new direction to explore, Potter was stuck in the Auror Classes. Since he himself needed something to do to keep his mind off past events, Snape decided to take matters into his own hands. He'd never done well with free time. While he was uncomfortable with the previous night's pathos, and he skirted the more personal issues raised, the remaining thoughts convinced him Harry's decision to drop the Auror training was sound. The Auror's work itself could destroy him and not in a 'tipping over the parapet' kind of way, although that always remained a remote possibility.

_'No, as much as I hate agreeing with Potter about anything, continuing the Auror training would be a very bad idea. I fully understand his need to expiate his iniquities, as he sees them; we all have demons left to fight inside us as a result of our efforts over the years.'_ He side-stepped this as well; he didn't want to look at his sore spots any more than Potter wanted to be reminded of his.

_'While being an Auror might give him something positive to do with his life, it couldn't satisfy his 'itch' to make things 'right' again. With no direct reparation, his past would always haunt him; he would end up hating it, in much the same way we all hated the things we had to do to win. As much as we've had our differences, I wouldn't wish that on--Voldemort.'_ Again, he turned his wayward thoughts away from the depressing places they wanted to go.

He was startled by a latent insight. _'Except for the odd exception, I was able to keep my Potions work completely unsullied by my Death Eater activities. It would have been too much to bear to turn my one pleasure into the same anathema as everything else in my life. I at least had a vocation to protect; Potter has none except Quidditch, and we're both agreed it's not a viable option.'_

Despite the sarcasm and angst, Harry had actually recited a fairly accurate picture of his abilities, although he'd left out one and glossed over another. _'Now the question is, how can he best exploit them?'_ Snape was not without resources and he took from the shelf behind him, a fairly recent book called "Wizarding Professions", which had a tabular format using OWL and NEWT scores as a basis for career choices. Once all the values, both objective and subjective were in place and calculated, there were other tables in the back outlining the most likely career choices for the derived scores as well as a suggested curriculum for each. Tedious but not impossible.

Chortling over his unexpected role as a Gryffindor counselor, he set to work. _'If such a thing even exists--McGonagall's haphazard efforts are a prime example of the uninspired leading the indifferent.'_

Looking through the tables and applying Harry's OWL scores, he thought about how little he'd been able to use this workbook in past years. _'Really, I think most of my Slytherins would be better off somewhere other than Hogwarts. Perhaps a Muggle school with private tutouring would be more appropriate?'_

It was a radical thought, but one he'd had often. Most of his Slytherins followed the path of their parents and very few went on to higher education. Hogwarts, for the most part, did not teach them how-to-rob-people-blind-while-making-them-want-it, nor did it teach the Dark Arts directly. Most of the parents of his students hired private teachers for the summer to fill in their 'proper' education and only sent their children to Hogwarts for the 'tradition and experience' or the contacts and alliances they could make with this and the next generation. _'So I was taught, so they are taught,'_ he thought sadly.

He had always been surprised Voldemort had never started his own school, one where he could be sure future generations of Death Eaters were properly indoctrinated and not subject to the temptations of the Light. And it would have kept them all firmly beyond Dumbledore's reach.

Finished with the objective scores, he started delineating Harry's articulated perceptions of his skills from the night before into the formulas, his mind wandering again, not fully occupied with such a mundane task. _'No, it's those who would remain, the ones with minds of their own who comprise the best that is Slytherin. And there are so few of them. It's our one weakness, this arrogance that we cannot be bothered to do more than we always have. Voldemort, like the others, never truly understood the power of diversity, only Power, which with nothing else to temper it, is a dead-ended trap.'_

He grimaced at his next thought, _'As much as I dislike their simpering whining, the other Houses could teach mine so much if they would only listen. Perhaps now that the war is over and I am no longer required to keep up appearances, a new, more secular, curriculumn could be added to tempt my Slytherins away from their previously pre-ordained paths. It might be worth talking to Albus about.'_

Almost done, he added the more personal, subjective scores for Harry's expressed desires and inclinations and was left with two choices. He muttered out loud, "Auror and Unspeakable? Damn, these choices are worse than I had when I started this whole exercise." Glancing at the clock, he was surprised it was almost time for his afternoon class to start arriving. He turned back to the tables and started searching for any errors.

Still talking to himself, he murmured, "Hold on a minute. If I add the skills he didn't mention and change Potions--like this--discount the History and beef up the Herbology--there. Now, add the personal choices and--Voila!" He now had three very different choices--Auror, Medi-Wizard, and Healer.

_Healer? Now that might have some promise."_ He looked over the charts again. _"Harry certainly meets all the academic criteria and undoubtedly has the talent, as I have good cause to know. I suspect the choice might give him the other satisfaction he wants. It bears looking into further._

He conferred with the curriculum. _'The Medi-Wizard has some smaller appeal as the Healer; it is well below his capabilities and would not challenge him as much. Besides, given how well he takes orders--'_ He snickered at the thought. _'The Auror would also be well within his capabilities but--unless he's changed his mind since--'_ It would have to wait now. He could hear the first of the students trickling in. He hurriedly but carefully, gathered all the papers off his desk and placed them and the workbook in the deep lap drawer for later use.

He would confront Harry after class.


	5. Part I Cease Fire

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part I : Severus  
**Chapter Five : Cease Fire**

**Friday : 11 June 1999** (Continued)

The class itself was unexceptional. No explosions, no sass, no mistakes. _'Boring actually.'_

Potter wouldn't look at him. _'Surprise, surprise,'_ Snape thought ironically.

He surreptitiously looked at the clock at the back of the classroom. _'Almost time for dismissal,'_ he thought with some relief. The last word came out of his mouth precisely at the bell. The eight students started gathering their things, eager to escape; this had not been one of his livelier sessions.

"Mr. Potter? A moment of your time, please?" he called out as Harry stood to leave. Harry glanced over to Draco, their eyes meeting and holding. Draco, his whole demeanor possessive, sat back down and waited.

Determined to stop this at the start, Snape called out, "Mr. Malfoy, you have something you wish to see me about?" At Draco's startled look, he continued, "I'll take your question first as I may be some few minutes with Mr. Potter."

"Ah, no sir, I was waiting for Harry," he said without his usual aplomb. 

_'Nice dissembling, Draco, just the right touch of awkwardness. Well Done. But not in my class.'_ "Then please take you--and your dilatory manner--elsewhere preferably on the other side of the castle. I seem to recall you had some good deeds to do today? Yes? Mr. Potter will be with you as soon as he is able."

He glared at the young upstart as he leisurely rose and sauntered from the room. "You know where to find me, Harry, when you're finished."

Harry hid his grin from Draco by turning away for a moment. Snape muttered, "Insolent Prat," and noted Harry's small grin of silent approval with some satisfaction.

With the snick of the door, Snape cast warding and silencing charms on it. Harry looked a bit mystified. Snape answered his puzzlement by commenting, "Mr. Malfoy has, in the past, proven himself unable to follow the simplest of directions. This conversation is between the two of us and is not intended for his listening pleasure." He made another pass of his wand, and the wall seemingly disappeared. There, with his ear pressed against the heavy door, was Draco with an intense look of concentration on his feral face.

"I see what you mean. Why would he care?" Harry asked, dryly.

"I can think of several reasons--not one of them good. Suffice it to say, had our positions been reversed, I would've done much the same thing if I thought the conversation involved, in any way, something I felt I needed to know." He chuckled at Harry's resigned sigh, knowing he didn't really understand what he'd just said.

Rather than pursuing it, Harry asked, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes indeed, Mr. Potter." He moved over to his desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out the thick pile of papers with the book he'd laid in there earlier. After closing the drawer, he took the stack over to a middle work table and sat down on one of the wooden stools. He held out his hand to Harry, indicating the seat across from him. "Please be seated."

Harry hesitated just a second, his eyes travelling to the desk behind him to the table where he sat, but it was enough for Snape to realise he was wondering why they were at the table and not the desk, like most interviews with Snape. Without the intimidating bulk of the Potion Master's desk between them, this arrangement appeared almost intimate. Harry primly settled on the edge of the stool and waited patiently.

Severus noticed his discomfort with a little chagrin. It had not been his intent to make him uncomfortable; he'd thought the informal setting might make this discussion easier on him.

"I have given some thought to our discourse last evening." Harry's eyes lowered. Snape ignored his uneasiness and continued, "Upon occasion, in the odd case where they're not planning on simply joining the family business, I've the dubious honour of counseling the Slytherins on their future careers. To that end, I keep an up-dated copy of this workbook, which uses OWL and NEWT scores in conjunction with personal preferences and talents to ascertain, at the very least, a starting point in the search for a likely profession for that student."

He studied Harry's impassive face a moment and, sensing the underlying interest, plunged in. "After our talk yestereve, I took the liberty of pulling your scores. If you'll recall, at the time of the OWL's you had several promising choices open to you; however, you chose the special study to become an Auror, so those options were never explored. With the addition of your NEWT scores, the options narrow, but there are still several available." He pulled out one set of papers and set them in front of Harry, upside-down to him, so Harry could easily read them. "To this end, I plugged all your scores into the charts," here he laid out a second, thicker set of papers, "made the calculations," a thinner pile joined the others, "added your articulated, personal preferences of last night," a single sheet was laid on Harry's left, "and tabulated the results." Three sheets were placed right in front of him.

Harry picked up the pieces of parchment, scanning them quickly. They were worth a second look. Severus watched, fascinated, as Harry made some small sense of the data on the pages. He picked up his scores and compared the results. He took his time, the logic of the thing slowly coming together until it was obvious he understood the manipulations of the numbers compared to the results.

He finally looked up at Snape, unaware of the time passed in his perusal of the documents. Severus regarded him calmly, captivated by the thoughts flitting across Harry's face as he mastered the system without the instruction guide. _'I may have sorely underestimated him,'_ he thought with satisfaction. _'Now where did that come from?'_

"Why did you elevate the Potions score, deflate the History Score, and omit the Medi-Wizard option?" Harry asked, curious.

"As to the scores--I weighted them. The Potions score was weighted higher because of your performance this past year, after the NEWT's; your technique has improved and now that you're paying attention," he smiled, "you're performing to a much higher standard than before. Truly a pity you didn't before now; you might have rivaled Miss Granger." Harry looked sceptical. Hermione was well on her way to her degree in Potions at Cambridge, where Severus had sponsored her.

"As to the History score, you indicated it was one you _perceived_ you'd done poorly in. This is evidenced in that there is no NEWT score and your OWL's are abysmal. Since you indicated you did not much like History, I added a negative personal preference tally to the average and as a result it was weighted much lower. If I was wrong--"

"No, not wrong--it was a fair assumption," Harry hastily assured him.

"The Medi-Wizard option I discounted because I felt it wouldn't challenge you. While you would be doing 'good'," he almost sneered at the word, "the Healer is a specialist more in keeping with your _Sanos_ abilities. It was a judgement call on my part. If that's truly what you want--"

"I'm not sure what I want. Auror or Healer. Death or Life. What a choice," he mused.

"A bit simplistically put but accurate nonetheless." Severus waited for his reaction.

Harry was speechless. Snape could almost read the thoughts flitting across his open face--he knew he was not known for his generosity of either his time or his consideration. When the young man's brow puckered in puzzlement, he braced himself for the host of questions that never came. "Why would you do this for me?" Harry finally asked, his eyes wide and wondering.

_'I'm not sure I know the answer to that myself,'_ he mused, but out loud he heard himself say, "Contrary to popular opinion I'm neither an ogre, nor am I completely immune to random acts of kindness." He shifted on the stool, uncomfortable. _'I cannot believe I'm having this conversation.'_

Harry's incredulity over the matter coloured his voice. "Thank you, sir. May I take these papers to look them over?" he asked. When Snape's hesitated, he added, "If you'd rather I not--"

"No, you may have them. You're the first student, in my experience, to understand them. My hesitancy has nothing to do with you. Rather with a certain Slytherin who is, no doubt, still futilely waiting at the door."

Harry chuckled. "Well, I certainly hope he's not expecting me to rub his back." He grinned, his eyes glinting.

"You've reconciled?" Severus asked with a familiar sinking feeling in his gut.

"Not exactly." Severus brightened, then dimmed at Harry's next words. "He's grovelling. I'm thinking about it. Makes for a pleasant change." His grin turned wicked.

Severus thought about the implications of their time together, of how many of their colleagues, including Potter, could be hurt if it continued. He fought his rising nausea.

Harry watched Snape carefully. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." He didn't know where to begin. How should he warn Harry--and if possible get him away from Draco--without getting his back up? _'Perhaps he stays with Draco just to prove us all wrong, even if he knows we're right.'_ Harry's weary tone with his next words confirmed his conjecture.

"Why would you be concerned whether Draco sees these papers or not, if I might ask?"

_'Ah, a good lead-in.'_ He stated as blandly as he could, "I would be concerned about _anyone_ sifting through them. They're yours and yours alone--not necessarily anyone else's business."

"I can see that, but you seemed concerned about Draco in particular," he replied, his eyes narrowing.

_'This is precisely what I wanted to avoid.'_ Severus sighed. "Harry," he began, "I'm sure you have received numerous, shall we say, _warnings_ about being associated with Draco Malfoy." He held up his hand to forestall the inevitable heated comment. "I would not presume to judge your relationship. Draco has his moments, some good, some bad. It's your choice whether you stay with him or not; I'm assuming your own native intelligence and instincts are sufficient for you to make your own decisions. This isn't about him. It's about you."

_'Gods help me that I'm right,'_ Severus thought. Harry raised a brow.

He continued, picking his words with great care, "However, having said that, and having known Draco for the past eighteen or so years, I can say with some assurance that he's quite spoiled and can be manipulative when he wants something. Obviously that something, if you will, right _now_ is you." He paused, gauging Harry's reaction. He seemed calmer. "Draco is drawn to power like a moth to a flame, if you'll excuse a tired old phrase, something you have in abundance. You've apparently chosen to deviate from a course which exploits your power and are now considering newer," he paused trying to find the right word, "more constructive, avenues to pursue. This is a positive thing for you, but not necessarily fulfilling for Mr. Malfoy."

Harry shifted on his stool, no longer sitting on the edge, his eyes thoughtful. Leaning forward, Severus said, "Harry, I asked you a question last night you never answered. Do you know what you want?"

"No," he whispered when he couldn't find his voice, his face to the side. He cleared his throat. Stronger, as if he thought Snape had not heard him, he said again, "No, I don't."

Severus caught and held his eyes for a moment. He used every oratory skill he possessed to make Harry hear his earnest words as he said, "The decision of which career you choose must be solely yours, Mr. Potter. From my own dolorous experiences I have found that any path taken for the sake of anyone else often turns into a bitter road from which one spends the rest of one's life trying to escape. I am concerned Mr. Malfoy will try to convince you his path is your path before you know yourself what you want. _And if he's wrong_ you may make a decision you'll live to regret. This," his hands swept over the papers, "is no small matter. I would counsel you to keep it private, from everyone, until you know your own mind. Perhaps then you could share it with others for further opinion."

He willed Harry to understand. _'Don't make the same mistakes with your Malfoy that I made with mine.'_

Harry frowned and threw Snape a sharp glance before turning his face to the only window in the room. He finally murmured, as if talking to himself, "You're right. Damn you, you're right. Draco will push and push until he gets what he wants. I need to think on this. I would like to look through the papers, but it would be easier to not have to hide them, but I want to try some new combinations. Perhaps there are other choices as well?" Realising he'd been talking out loud, he looked startled. "Professor, can you suggest a place I can leave the charts and workbook without having to bother you every time I want to see them?"

Severus let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. "How about the library? Madame Pince can hold them for you at the front desk; you could look at them there. I can leave them for you, if you wish."

"That's a good idea, thank you. I'd appreciate it." Severus nodded his head, pleased.

Harry hesitated, obviously uneasy, "And I've been thinking over the last few weeks--and last night. I guess I'm long overdue with some things--between us." Severus raised his brows in surprise and started to reply. Harry raised his hand to forestall him, saying, "Please, let me finish or I may never be able to." 

Snape nodded and he began. "I know you once told me we were "odds-even', but I'm not sure anymore that's true." He chuckled, his eyes getting that far-away look one gets when one is remembering. He murmured, "Well, maybe at the time it was." Recalling himself he continued, "However, the past two years have been--difficult, and I realised it was for both of us." He paused and looked around the room. "I know I was a terrible student--I know I didn't pay attention as I should," he met Snape's eyes and grinned, "and I think I know every crack in this floor--I spent enough time on it." 

Snape almost smiled and then caught himself and nodded instead.

Harry's face sobered. He mused, "All those years--the hours of extra study, dragging my sorry arse up to the tower every night--usually after getting thoroughly drubbed by you or the Headmaster or both--no life, no time, no friends, no friendly trips to Hogsmeade--most of it was nothing but work and learning. Not that we didn't complain. I swore last year that if I ever heard you say 'Potter!' in that really annoying way you have, I was going to Transfigure you into a new wall sconce."

He quirked a smile and Snape knew he'd not been completely successful at hiding his. "And in the end, maybe it was all worth it--I guess I got it right, even if the form was bad. Afterwards, I even missed it, if you can believe it." His mouth twisted a little at the corners.

"However, I'd never realised, until I saw all the work you went through to help me this afternoon, that you and the Headmaster had to sacrifice as much as I did. It never occurred to me that you were there too, that you were giving up the same amount of time, the same amount of effort as I was, maybe more." His voice trailed off, his thought obviously back in his memories. Snape waited patiently. Eventually he said softly, looking at the floor. "But the truly sad part is that until today, I never once thought to thank you."

"And now this," he pointed to the papers on the table, his voice brisker, "this was--unforeseen. The work, the time you spent putting this together, and your sound advice was more than I'd ever expected or maybe even deserved."

Severus was dumbfounded. His silence spurred Harry on.

He shifted uncomfortably but met Snape's incredulous eyes full on and said quietly, "I guess I'm just as guilty as everyone else in overlooking your better attributes and for that alone I owe you a long, overdue apology. I haven't been very nice to you over the years and gave you less respect than you truly deserved. As to the current situation, you've been nothing but decent about the whole thing and it's time I acknowledge you are actually looking after my best interests. I _know_ you don't approve of me, or my actions at times and abhor my relationship with Draco, but it's been a pleasant surprise to know you aren't going to shove your opinions down my throat."

_'Who are you and what did you do with Harry?'_ he thought, his mental jaw hitting the floor. The feelings from Harry's words were foreign to him and difficult to describe, but they made him feel unaccountably good. _'Now how do I respond to this?'_

Severus chose his words carefully. "You're welcome. Although I admit I thought the _heroics_ overrated, but since we all saved each other's lives, I believe a certain balance was achieved." He cleared his throat nervously. "Despite my ranting last night I'd always felt we'd each placed equal effort and sacrifice into Voldemort's demise. Having said that, it doesn't come easy for me to thank you as well. It seems we both had some--excess baggage to unload."

At Harry's rueful smile, he continued, "As to the 'effort' of today--I realised this morning you hadn't the advantage I did; I'd my Potions work to return to after the madness was over, something I assiduously protected over the years from vilification. You're too young to own many choices, and it seemed only fair to give you more."

It was Harry's turn to close his mouth.

"You're incorrect in saying I don't approve of your relationship with Draco. My approval or disapproval is irrelevant; it's truly none of my business with whom you sleep. I do believe you're making a mistake being with him; however, I also firmly believe mistakes exist to edify us if we can step away from them and observe them, without prejudice, in hindsight."

He paused, his next words dredged from deep within him. "Of course, there's always the issue of seeing them in the first place. What I truly _abhor_ is dishonesty; I'll not lie to you--even if my beliefs or observations cause discomfort or hurt. I found honest value in our conversation yestereve. If you ever need to--discuss--anything further, you know where to find me." He stared at himself. _'Where's all this coming from? Surely, not from my mouth?'_

Harry said with a grin, "So all those nasty, sarcastic insults you showered us students with, all those years, were the truth?" he asked innocently.

Snape gave him a genuine smile, "From my perspective, yes. I think if you look back on it, you'll find I was as right as I was--tactless. But you're _mistaken_ if you think I limit it to just the students. So _learn_ from it."

Harry stood and offered his hand; Severus took it, standing. "Fair enough. As to your offer--I will if you will," he stated with a small smile and released his hand. At Severus' nod, he left for the door which Severus hastily un-warded. Before the door closed he heard him say, "C'mon Draco, let's go."

Severus sat back down on the stool, wondering what had just happened. _'Could we possibly be friends now? Good heavens--I better go outside and make sure the earth is still revolving.'_ He started laughing while he gathered the papers up. _'On to Madame Pince.'_

****

**Mid-to-Late June 1999**

Harry, by himself, went to the library several times and ran the numbers again and came up with several more options to choose from. While Snape was not infallible, his results were so tight to Harry's, it was amazing he'd hit it so closely.

He spent some hours (much to Draco's displeasure) down in the Potions lab in the evenings while Snape worked, sometimes helping but always asking him questions about the different fields of study he was looking at. He always got unbiased and non-judgmental answers. His talks with Professor McGonagall were also fruitful now he had a direction to follow. Madame Pomfrey, in particular, had surprising advice.

Two weeks later, he met with them all in the Headmaster's office and formally asked them to help him pursue a career as a Healer, to which they readily agreed. A schedule and apprenticeship were set-up and the ensuing, lively discussion on the right schools was everything Harry had hoped for. Since the apprenticeship with Madame Pomfrey determined where he would live, the bulk of his 'classwork' would be done with Owls and brief visits with his academic tutor/advisor, a woman of some renown.

Dumbledore and Snape, in particular were pleased he would remain at Hogwarts; there'd been some ugly episodes and rumours, which made it unlikely Harry would be safe for long outside the walls of the school. Not that they told him this. He never would have agreed to remain had he thought they were _protecting_ him.

While the Head of the Slytherin House was inordinately pleased, another certain Slytherin was not amused.

****

**July 1999**

So, with Snape's support, Harry changed professions--much to Fudge's overt displeasure. He used his numerous connections to block Harry's applications; it had been quite a behind-the-scenes wrestling match with Dumbledore and Snape pitted against Fudge and the Ministry to get Harry's remote acceptance into a good school passed, let alone noticed.

In the end they were successful but only after Minerva had gone to see Fudge privately at the Ministry. Shortly after her subsequent return to Hogwarts, an insufferably smug smile on her face, word arrived that Fudge had capitulated with nary a whimper. While Snape had been loath to publicly admit anything good about his old nemesis and found her lingering affectation intolerable, he had to privately admit the old bat's almost Slytherin handling of the situation had been most impressive.

Harry was doing exceedingly well and found an almost Hermione-like concentration late in life that made it even easier for him to succeed. Hitting his stride from day one, he did it by himself. His relationship with Draco fell by the wayside as he spent more time in his studies than he did with the other young man. 

Draco did nothing to support him and seemed determined to undermine Harry's efforts with subtle insults and esteem-gnawing comments. Given Draco's propensity for annoying and baiting Harry coupled with his rapidly dissolving temper, it had not taken long after he'd started school for Harry's and Severus' cease-fire to turn into something a bit more.


	6. Part I Duel Personalities

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part I : Severus  
**Chapter Six : Duel Personalities**

**Saturday : 7 August 1999**

"NO!" Harry's shouted exclamation could be heard from the hallway clear up to the staff table in the Great Hall. "Absolutely Not!" was soon followed by "I'm warning you! Back off, Draco! I AM NOT INTERESTED!"

Dumbledore and Snape had been enjoying a leisurely breakfast this late Saturday morning when they heard the shout and felt the surge of magical power, a duelling ward, out in the Main Hall; Snape would swear it felt like Potter's work. They both jumped up from their seats and pelted down the length of the tables to the Hall. Snape reached it first and was appalled to see his worst fears realised--down by the stairs, Draco and Harry were squaring off for a duel. He felt Albus reach his side and both men held their breaths over the tableau in front of them.

Harry and Draco stood in the Hall oblivious to the bystanders around them. A glowing protective Ward was already domed over them. Draco circled him, wand out, his face filled with a wild, unnatural rage. Snape had never seen him this out of control. Harry, in the meantime, his face flushed as if with a fever, stood still, his calm stance ready while he carefully watched Draco, making no overt effort to defend himself.

It was a position Snape knew all too well. He'd taught it to him to prepare him to fight Voldemort in the private Dark Arts Defense course he and Dumbledore had started with him two years before. He also knew it did not bode well for Draco.

"Draco, don't be an idiot! Don't challenge him!" Snape roared as he hurried towards them to try and stop the fight. He could see Harry's wand was still at his side pointed down, sparks already starting to fall out of the end of it. As he drew near, he heard Potter say in a low voice, "Don't Draco. I know you wouldn't listen to me last night, but hear me well now. _Don't do this_. Don't make me injure you. You've pushed me to the edge; I won't let you hurt me again. I Have Had Enough--Just Stay Away From Me--_Please_." The last word, a plea.

"Hurt me? Not bloody likely. I've seen you fight in class, remember?" he snarled. "So I'm not good enough for you? Is that it? What more do you want, Potter? Roses? Moonlit walks around the lake? More midnight fun?" he taunted, continuing his circling, his teeth bared.

"No, Draco. I just want you to leave me well alone," Harry said in a slow, defeated voice. "It's over. It's been over for quite a while now, and you know it."

"No! It's not over until I say it is. You're not going to get away from me that easily!" Draco called out, his chest heaving. He raised his wand, trying to provoke him. "Prepare yourself, Potter! Damn you! Raise your wand and engage."

Railing against an uncharacteristic feeling of helplessness, Snape considered his options and found none. _'Damn, do I have to spell it out for the idiot? What in the hell is wrong with him? Why has he lost all semblance of sense?_ He knew that despite his age, Draco was a powerful wizard in his own right backed by a cunning intellect. Harry was as strong in offense, his only weakness being mercy, a flaw Draco did not share. But there was no one who could touch Harry for defense magic, save Albus, and this stupid git was going to challenge him? _'But then again--he's never actually seen Harry's defenses. Only Albus and I know how truly powerful he is. And how can I possibly convince Draco this is a very bad idea when he's obviously beyond listening?'_

Suddenly, it was too late for him to interfere--Draco let go the first disarming hex. Harry nimbly dodged it, his wand still at his side. 

"C'mon fight me, you coward." Draco closed with in a rush and tried again with a binding hex, the spell sailed harmlessly past Harry who merely leaned out of the way. 

"It figures, you never did know what to do with your wand," he cruelly called out even as he let loose a point-blank fire hex. Harry stepped out the way, wincing in pain as he ducked under the flame, which exploded with all of Draco's fury on the wall of the ward behind him. The spectators jumped back in alarm.

Snape was about to step forward when--

Frustrated, Draco lost all control and raising his wand, shouted "_CRUCIO_!" The crowd of students and staff froze.

Quicker than thought, a shimmering aura surrounded Harry. His wand was now up and ready, the sparks flying out of the end indicating how much power he was holding back. The green stripe of the Unforgivable Curse hit the aura square on and reflected back to Draco in a thicker ribbon before he could dodge it. He writhed briefly on the ground, his face contorted in agony before he could cut off his own spell by dropping his wand. He staggered to his feet, picked up his wand, and raised it.

--Snape felt a huge surge of power and quietly spoken spells from behind him, as Albus completely froze the participants through the duelling ward, their wands flying into his waiting out-stretched hand. _'Impressive as always.'_

"That is enough! Both of you. My office. NOW!" Dumbledore didn't yell--he didn't need to. The fury was clear from the terrible expression on his face. "Severus, join us, please," he continued in a more normal tone of voice although the anger was still there. He levelled a scathing glare around at the small crowd of students and staff ringing the area to watch the fight and said, "I expect the rest of you have other places to be--now." They scattered.

Without a backward glance, Dumbledore waved his wand releasing the two combatants and swept off to his office, assured they would follow. Snape lagged behind to make sure they did; he noticed Harry was walking with a pronounced limp and he briefly wondered if he'd hurt himself when he'd dodged the spells in the duel.

The trip to the Headmaster's office was made in silence, Harry's eyes fixed at some point on the floor immediately in front of him; Draco was looking around him with his usual suspicious paranoia. Snape was just disgusted with the whole thing and it took most of his willpower not to knock some sense into the younger Slytherin. After his talks with Potter, he had no doubts who had started this fight.

Once in the privacy of his cluttered office, Dumbledore went behind the desk, sat down, and indicated to Severus to do the same in one of the comfortable chairs in front of it. He said nothing to the young men; it was obvious he expected them to remain standing.

Albus rarely showed his anger at anything, but he let them feel the full force of it when he asked, "What in the hell was that all about, gentlemen? Make it short; you have about two minutes before I decide to throw you _both_ out of the school."

Harry said nothing, still looking at the floor, a slight flush in his cheeks. Draco looked around nervously. After about a minute, Harry finally broke the silence, "I'm sorry, sir. We lost control. We had no business bringing our argument into public."

_'Oh, right. You intended to get yourself killed in private? Bravo, Mr. Potter.'_

Albus stared at them. "Mr. Malfoy? Do you have anything to say?"

"Sir, we were just having a quiet conversation, when Potter here," he pointed to Harry, "started shouting and carrying on."

"And I suppose you were just minding your own business?" Snape's words cut harshly into the ensuing silence. "I have never felt such shame towards a Slytherin before, not even from a Death Eater; to draw a wand on a fellow student is as unforgivable as the curse you cast. There aren't enough points on the planet to punish you for this."

He turned to Dumbledore, his face paler than normal. "Headmaster, please accept my humblest apologies on behalf of the Slytherin House. Its Founder, Salazar, would be appalled at Draco Malfoy's actions today. Do with him as you will, we wash our hands of him." The formal words of censure and release, fell heavily in the air.

Harry spoke up quietly. "In a way, Professor Snape, it _was_ my fault. I refused to stop when Draco wanted to talk to me. I should have stayed and listened. Maybe then this wouldn't have happened," 

Snape replied, "Potter, I find your statement hard to credit; your defence was limited to avoidance and warding--and you did not retaliate. I know what you did today, how much you held back. _You_ were not the one who lost control."

Dumbledore continued the sentiment. "I'm not interested in the cause of this argument. I am, however, extremely interested and deeply disturbed by the results of it. To duel in the first place is unacceptable," he turned his eyes to Draco, "but to cast an Unforgivable Curse, here in this school, is reprehensible. What possessed you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco stubbornly remained silent. _'Probably not a bad idea, all things considered,'_ Snape thought blatantly staring at the stoic young man.

When he received no response, Dumbledore sighed. "Severus, I accept your censure and your release of House control over this student in this matter. In McGonagall's absence will you release Harry as well?"

Severus sighed and looked pained. He could do no less than for his own. Heavily, he said, "Headmaster, please accept my humblest apologies on behalf of the Gryffindor House. Its Founder, Godric, would be appalled at Harry Potter's actions today. Do with him as you will, we wash our hands of him." Harry closed his eyes against the reservation and pain in Severus' words. Draco still wouldn't look at either Snape or Dumbledore, instead fixing his glare on Harry.

_'No, Godric would've been both impressed and pleased, but it's part of the formal release. I'm sorry, Harry,'_ Severus thought, wishing he'd not had to do this.

Dumbledore said to Severus, understanding in his eyes, "Very well, I accept your censure and release of House control." He turned his regard to the two young men still standing before him--one full of remorse, the other defiant. "You are both under 'house arrest' until we can determine the proper course of action. This is beyond mere detentions and ordinarily would result in expulsion from Hogwarts," he said sternly.

He sighed. "However, I abhor waste of any kind, so careful thought must be given to your disposition, as it's a Headmaster's prerogative in matters of this nature. Go directly to your respective Houses. Draco, you are to leave first and stay there until further notice. I want to take no chances of a repeat occurrence. I don't want to see one hair outside the confines of your common room. I'll have the house-elves bring your meals there. Now go, before I decide to hex you into tomorrow."

Draco left the room quickly, leaving Harry still standing in front of the cluttered desk.

At the click of the lock, Dumbledore said in his normal calm voice, "Please be seated, Harry," indicating by an outstretched hand the chair next to Snape.

Harry was startled and staring at Dumbledore, did as he was bid.

"Harry, I--and I'm sure Professor Snape--would like to offer our apologies for censuring you, but it had to be done in all fairness to Mr. Malfoy. Godric would most certainly have been proud of your control today. It was sorely tested this morning and don't deny it." He smiled. "We three are probably the only ones who know just how _much_ you held back and we are proud of you too."

He looked to Severus who, without prompting and no small measure of relief, nodded his head and said, "I concur."

"Now, down to brass tacks. When did you put up the circle?" Albus asked him abruptly.

"When Draco pulled his wand, I was afraid he'd--Sir, I am so sor--"

"Not another word, Harry. I'll not have you apologising for something not your fault." He turned to glare at Snape, "I thought you warned him." The words held no small amount of his own censure.

Severus looked sideways at Harry. "I did try, Albus, but at the time Harry was not in the mood to listen to advice about staying away from Mr. Malfoy. The best I could do was separate them a little," he answered truthfully.

"Hmph. Obviously it was not enough. I had hoped to avoid this--and we've no proof," he mused out loud.

Harry raised his hand like a school child asking for permission to speak. "Yes Harry, you have something to add?"

"Sir, with all due respect, what are you talking about? Warn me about what?"

Dumbledore sighed wearily. "We have reason to believe Mr. Malfoy may be acting for the benefit of someone else, namely his father. There's been speculation his continuing purpose at this school is to gather information for the remaining Death Eaters and to either harm or use you, through possibly a spell or a potion, for information or control. Why, we've not yet been able to fathom. I'm sorry, Harry. I'm afraid Mr. Malfoy's motives in your former relationship are suspect. Unfortunately, we have no proof. Is there anything you can recall that could help us prove or disprove this theory?"

Harry sat stunned a moment; they could almost see him reviewing in his mind his and Draco's interactions. Finally, he said, "Sir, Draco did nothing to me other than have--an affair. I think I would've noticed a spell or something if he were trying to control me."

_'He intended to kill you, today.'_ "Did you ever talk to him about the Order?" Severus had to ask.

"No, never." His words rang with conviction.

"Then he must have had other means to do so," Severus said. "Draco was trying to position you for his father's use. You're a very big obstacle to their plans." He hesitated, trying to find the right words without upsetting him further, "I have no doubt there was, perhaps, a certain amount of 'pillow talk' between the two of you--especially if you were to be away for a while on Order business?"

Harry's face pulled in as he thought about it when a look of dawning horror crossed it. "Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry. I might've told him where I was going. How stupid can I get? I just didn't think!"

"Well, maybe not with the head on your shoulders," Snape quipped.

Albus sympathised. "Harry, there's no reason to chastise yourself. What's done is done, and it's over; luckily, no one was hurt. No, I am more worried about Mr. Malfoy's actions this morning. Both of you could have been seriously hurt as could have many of the bystanders."

"I put up the ring as soon as I realised what he intended. I still can't believe he--"

Snape chuckled, very definitely a rusty sound. "Your shield confounded him. It was most gratifying to see him suffer for it."

"Now Severus--" Dumbledore warned, the twinkle back in his eyes, "--behave." He looked long at Harry who began to fidget under his steady regard. "Harry, I'm going to have to ask you to go back to your rooms. Please keep a low profile until I can decide what to do with Mr. Malfoy. It wouldn't do for you to be _seen_ wandering around when I've confined him to his rooms."

"Yes, sir." Harry said, in a small voice. Severus could see that he was very upset: he suspected Harry was thinking of all the people who could have been seriously hurt on the raids he'd unwittingly betrayed. He knew Harry would be surprised to know it would have been his reaction as well.

As if reading his mind, Albus said gently, "Go on now Harry; we'll talk more about this later."

Harry nodded numbly and without looking at either of them, went directly to his chambers, his steps slow and pensive.

After Harry had left, Dumbledore shook his head sadly, "You realise, of course, I can't send Draco back to his father?"

Severus thought about it a moment. "Most inconvenient, Albus. He tried to kill him this morning; of that, I have no doubt."

"I know it. So what are my choices? I either keep Draco here where he can try to find another way to kill our Harry, or I send him back with the knowledge it will be the last time I ever see him, because Lucius is sure to have him killed." 

Snape shook his head, "I think you are sorely underestimating Draco's survival instincts. I suspect he'll land on his feet, no matter what we do."

Albus smiled, "I'd wager the odds _are_ in his favour, but am I willing to chance it? Lucius is extremely vicious to cross, or fail, as you have good cause to know."

He was silent for a moment. Severus didn't interrupt him. "No, it's better to keep him here. The chances are much better of them both surviving here, than Draco's are of surviving out there--cunning or no." He turned troubled eyes to Severus, "It's a sad thing when we must guard against those we raised."

"They are not children anymore, Albus," Severus pointed out gently.

"No, they are not. But are they truly grown up?"

"I've no answer to that, sir," Severus began, "but I do know we have at least one who, if not grown up, at least feels the weight of his obligations _and_ takes his talents to heart for our benefit. Perhaps, too much to heart."

"Severus, you constantly surprise me. I didn't know you'd even noticed," Albus replied with irony, a small smile forming in the corner of his mouth.

Given what they'd gone through in the days following Voldemort's defeat, Snape was more than a little irritated by the Headmaster's glib words. He said nothing and just glared at him, his arms folded across his chest, one brow raised. He knew he would never get an apology for the hasty words, but making Albus uncomfortable was almost as satisfying.

Snape knew he'd got his point across when Dumbledore's smile faded and looking away, he cleared his throat continuing in a rush, "Well, that's settled then. We keep Draco here. Besides it will give us more time to find out what he's planning. Just because his physical and emotional link to Harry has been severed, does not mean he will stop trying to gather information. You have more experience with this and as Head of his House, I expect you to find out what he's about." Snape nodded although he was not pleased with the situation. He wanted Draco well away.

Almost as an afterthought, he added, "I found nothing in the way of a spell or a charm Draco could have used against Harry that we have not already considered. Have _you_ been able to find alternate means other than the one potion we discussed?"

Severus winced. He'd been so convinced he was right, he'd not looked at any other options; a fact he could see had not escaped Dumbledore's notice. "No more than I've already told you. I'll keep looking."

"You do that, my boy. In the meantime, keep an eye out for Harry, too. I suspect he'll be _out_ wandering under that cloak of his and I hear it's going to rain tonight."

Severus smiled and shook his head, saying nothing with his mouth but plenty with his eyes. It was with Dumbledore's laughter he left the room.


	7. Part I The Place Within

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part I : Severus  
**Chapter Seven : The Place Within**

**Saturday : 7 August 1999** (Continued)

Snape climbed over the ledge at the door to the battlement, a feeling of déjà vu sweeping over him as he stepped out into the pouring rain. _'Yes, there he is, in the same place as before.'_ He got a sense of urgency and it was with some surprise he felt Harry's back to him when he reached over the spot where he knew Harry was sitting and put his hand on his invisible shoulder.

He felt Harry start and said over the noise of the deluge, "We have to stop meeting like this, Potter. Have you not noticed the inclement weather, or have you decided the illness you could contract would be a gentler way to go as opposed to just 'tipping over the edge'." He was already soaked through.

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "I hate being sick almost as much as I detest being a coward--I'm not brave enough to end it all, anyway."

"It's all too easy to end it, Harry," Severus said in earnest, shouting to be heard, "The real question is whether you're strong enough to keep on living even when you're quite sure you don't want to."

He felt Harry turn to eye him, checking the motives behind the words, the hood falling off in the process. Severus nodded in answer to his unspoken question, _'Yes, I too have considered it many times.'_ He said to him over the rain splashing on the flags, "Now, come down from there and let's get back inside where it's warmer and drier."

Harry scooted out of the crenelation. His movements revealed his sodden legs under the cloak and he scrunched them up and pivoted, swinging them onto the battlement side of the wall. He jumped down, his feet disappearing as the cloak resettled. They squelched their way back to the door and once inside were relieved at the sudden silence. A quick drying spell made them both more comfortable. "Leave the cape on and follow me; it wouldn't do to be seen disobeying Albus at this early date."

Severus huffed as they made their way down the stairs, "I'm most upset you've broken your promise so soon after making it."

"What promise is that?" Harry asked, trying to keep up with Severus' ground-eating pace.

Harry almost ran into him as Snape stopped and turned to face him, a neat trick since he couldn't see him. "The one you made when you _said_ you'd come talk to me if there was a problem. Now I may be mistaken, but sitting in a downpour contemplating more than your navel strikes me as the act of someone with more on their mind than just the current weather report."

Harry chuckled, a welcome sound to Severus' mind. "Yes, I suppose I did, although I've not seen you knocking on my door either."

Snape raised his brow. "Perhaps that is because I have had no 'life-altering' thoughts recently." 

Harry seemed to catch his double meaning. The hood fell back as he dipped his head in embarrassment. He looked quickly away and muttered, "Perhaps we should keep moving," As he replaced the hood on his head, Snape caught the small smile on his lips as he said, "You look pretty silly talking to yourself in the hallway. What _will_ people think?"

Snorting his disgust, Snape lead him, without further comment, to his quarters in the dungeon. 

****

While he poured them both a brandy, Harry laid the cloak to the side over the back of an old chair in front of the fire and sat in it. Severus handed him a snifter two fingers full, and settled in the other chair. Harry sipped his brandy, feeling it slide warm down his throat; Severus quietly did the same, not breaking the silence. He'd learned long ago to let silence work for him. _'Talk to me, Harry.'_

Despite the bright heat from the small fire, Harry was starting to shake from the aftermath of the day's and previous night's events. _'I need to leave soon. I can't control it.'_ He stood, placing the snifter on the table saying, "Thank you. It was pretty stupid to sit up there. It's much more comfortable inside. I-I really must be going." _'Please don't let me go.'_

Severus still said nothing as he stood up as well. _'Don't go. I know you're not ready to go, yet.'_ Harry finally looked at him and in that instant of compassionate eye contact, Severus reached out and put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently.

It was Harry's undoing. _'Where's your sarcasm? I can't take your kindness.'_ With a muffled cry, he tried to turn away, _'I'm not ready,'_ but Severus reached out and stopped him, his hand on his upper arm. Harry could feel his considering eyes on him and before he knew it, Snape made a low sound and with a gentleness he would never have credited him with, pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly, the pain of his separation from Draco keen and fresh despite their earlier distance. His head nestled comfortably as his body trembled beyond his control. Feeling vulnerable with his inability to stop his lingering panic from the night before, he thought, _'Don't hurt me, please,'_ his hands grasping Severus' heavy robes like a lifeline, the cloth surprisingly supple under his hands. _'Love him out of me.'_

__  
  
After a long while, when his legs began to tire, Severus led a shaking Harry to the couch where he sat him down and let him get it out, still holding him. The glimpse of Harry's dry-eyed anguished face had been his undoing and as soon as the young man was securely tucked in, he'd briefly fought and sternly mastered a deep fury with Draco. He calmly stroked Harry's hair and, every now and then, placed a soft kiss on the head buried in his shoulder, his other hand comforting with small circles on Harry's back naturally and without thought. Eventually, Severus felt the shudders lessen and finally stop. _'Are you ready now?'_

Harry felt different, cleaner somehow. _'You make me feel good.'_ He was bereft when Severus released him slowly as his hands eased their tight grip on the older man's shoulders. _'I shouldn't burden you with this.'_ As Harry pulled away, he settled back on the couch facing him and said, "I'm so--"

"Don't you dare apologise," Severus interrupted him. "You're eminently over-qualified to redefine 'A Rough Day'." Wanting to reach out to him again, he denied the movement, thinking, _'What did he do to you, Harry?'_

Harry whispered, "Thank you," feeling awkward. _'Why is it I only let loose around you? Why do I trust you?'_

"You're welcome." Suddenly unsure, he asked, "You _are_ feeling better?" He eyed Harry's tense face. _'Please, say I helped.'_

Chuckling weakly, Harry replied, "Yes, would I dare _not_ feel better after all that?" Realising Severus was as uncertain as he was made him feel much more settled. _'You have no idea, do you, what I feel around you, how safe I am?'_

"Good," he said with a small smile. _'Why do I want to protect you so much?'_

"It's just this whole thing with Draco. Last night, the duel this morning, the meeting with you and Albus--I'm mostly upset that someone could have been hurt by my stupidity. I only thought--" Harry stopped unable to continue. _'If Dumbledore hadn't stopped me, I probably would have killed him, then myself. Gods, it hurts.'_

Severus wasn't buying the explanation, but he chose to accept Harry's words at face value. His gut told him differently, but now was not the time to push for unwanted confidences. "You only thought what?" he asked quietly, taking the opening Harry had left him. _'Tell me, Harry. You can trust me.'_

"Not much, I just--" his voice trailed off. _'He hurt me last night.'_ Unbidden came to his mind the hatred on Draco's face this morning. "I don't know, wasn't thinking much at all." He felt again this morning's resolve. "I just wanted it to end." His body hurt. _'He won't let go. He says he'll see me dead first.'_

"I thought you had ended it," Severus said perplexed, watching the distressing thoughts flicker across Harry's face. _'I may have to kill Draco yet.'_ The thought left him stunned with its implications, which he quickly suppressed.

"You saw what happened this morning!" Harry exclaimed. _'He can't let me live after last night. He tried to kill me.'_

__  
  
"Yes, I saw two young lovers break up a relationship, rather violently I might add. Was I supposed to see more?" He tried to compel him with his eyes. _'Come Harry, tell me. I know it was more than that. He hurt you but how?'_

"No, that's all it was," he said dejectedly, turning away from the severity and unspoken questions in Severus' gaze. _'I can't tell you; I'm so ashamed at what he did.'_

Severus was exasperated, but hid it well, _'This is getting us nowhere. I will have to be patient.'_

****

Horatio chose this moment to uncoil from his place near the fire beside Severus' chair, his thin forked tongue flicking in and out, testing the air. The warmth from the hearth felt good on his scales even if it came from fire. He was curious. The Master's unusual reactions to this human were identifiable but odd--he could taste them hanging in the air--the sour scents of frustration and anger overlaid with the sweet musky smells of courtship. Not a combination he'd ever tasted before from him.

He stopped at the feet of the new human, one he'd seen before but had never met. This one was a cornucopia of odors, the strongest being the bitter tang of fear. He had the same whiff of anger the Master had, but it was deeper, entwined with the lingering scents of injury--of blood and healing tissue. He smelled fresh, though, his essence clean, as if these scents were as new to him as the sex scents of mating surrounding the whole. And there was something else different about him, but for now, he couldn't quite figure out what it was, but part of it was light and pleasant, the other was more like the emanations from the Master's closed room--very dark and something to avoid. 

****

Horatio reared up his head so he could see over the Harry's knee and hissed a greeting, _[*Greetingsss human.*]_

Severus saw him and without thinking said, "Harry, don't move. Horatio is quite harmless most of the time but can bite."

Harry threw him a disgusted glance and sitting forward looked the snake in his bright black eyes saying, _[*Greetingsss, Horatio.*]_

Severus felt stupid. _'Parselmouth, of course. I forgot. This should be interesting.'_ He mumbled, "Forgot you could talk to him. He might actually like it."

Horatio reared back, as surprised as a snake ever gets and was about to climb up in Harry's lap when he said, _[*Pleassse forgive my poor mannersss. May I come to sssee you, human?]_ he asked politely.

_[*Yesss, of courssse you may.*]_ Harry was obviously fascinated, his face holding none of its earlier dread. As Horatio made his way up his leg and into his lap, he turned to Severus, eyes gleaming with excitement, "He's beautiful. What breed is he?"

"Horatio's an exotic from America--a Black Eastern Kingsnake. He's a constrictor, so he's relatively well-behaved, bites more than he should, and eats anything that moves, including other snakes," Severus replied, rather proudly. Horatio was one of his better kept secrets since he rarely stirred out of their quarters.

Harry felt the weight of the snake settle into a coil with bits of him draped over the arms of the chair as well. "He's big _and_ heavy. What do you feed him?"

Severus said, "I import rats and some mice for him; he seems to like the ones from Sussex best. He cleaned out our quarters a very long time ago and usually won't leave to go outside, the lazy sod."

At the same time, Horatio replied, _[*Ratsss. Big juisssy ratsss. Thossse are the bessst, although mousssesss have their meritsss asss a light sssnack. But I prefersss ratsss. Or birdsss, if I can getsss them. And I am not lazy! There are too many peoplesss out there. They makesss high pitched noisssesss and ssstep on my tail.*]_

Harry laughed, as if he couldn't help it. "You do know he understands you?" At Snape's blank stare and shake of his head, Harry chuckled and continued, "He just said he's not lazy--he just doesn't like getting his tail stepped on by a bunch of screaming people. Oh, and he prefers birds and rats over mice." He looked around. "How does he get birds?"

Snape was bemused and with his voice and mind elsewhere, he said, "During the spring and summer I let him out to hunt. I think he's part pig with all the food he eats."

Horatio turned bright eyes to look at his master and then back to Harry. _[*Or, I could eatsss the Massster if he keepsss thisss up. It isss jussst a bigger bite.*]_

At Harry's chuckle, his head snapped around to look at them both. "What did he just say?" he asked suspiciously.

"You don't want to know--however, he's taken exception to being called a pig. I have to admit, the image of you sliding down his distended maw is most amusing." He laughed at Snape's harumph as he looked at all the stone walls and floors of the dungeon rooms. "It's awfully cold down here in the winter. Where does he sleep? Or does he hibernate?"

Severus hesitated, eyeing Harry long enough he started to squirm. _'Should I show him? Only Albus has been there. Well hell, why not--he's been in my bottom drawer and has never really given me any reason not to trust him.'_ Out loud he finally said, "Horatio either get off his lap or get ready to travel. I want to show him where you live."

Horatio turned his head and regarded Harry with bright laughing eyes. _[*May I travelsss with you, human?*]_

_[*Harry, my name isss Harry and yesss you may travelsss with me.*]_

His tongue sampling the air, Horatio said politely, _[*You're very ssskinny and still hurt. I will try not to ssstrangle or harm you.*]_

Stunned, Harry stared at him. Snape could tell he was holding something back when he said, "Your snake is very considerate, Severus. He's promised not to throttle me."

Deciding not to disturb the fragile happiness he could see on Harry's face, Severus rose from his side of the couch and waited for Horatio to settle himself on Harry's shoulders. "Don't you believe it. He can't help it. Try and get him draped over your arms. He sometimes forgets himself and squeezes too hard."

_[*Only when I wantsss to, never by accident,*]_ the snake hissed smugly. Harry laughed. Horatio draped himself all over Harry's neck and twined around his arms; there was still a lot of snake left hanging off.

Snape walked up to a blank wall. Before opening the wards there, he looked at Harry with speculation. "Indulge my curiosity, Harry. Can you sense the entrance?"

Harry walked up to the dull stone and waved his wand over it, the snake heavy on his arm. He placed his hand over a spot at eye level to his left and after a few moments murmured, "_Patefacio_". The wall shimmered and disappeared leaving a plain door in its place. "Don't change the password much, do you?" Harry smirked.

Severus was dumbfounded and annoyed. "Impressive. But don't tell me you've already forgot your lessons--_Patefacio_ is rather like _Alohomora_--it's a general unlocking charm. However, unlike _Alohomora_, it requires intent and the _Schema_ to open anything."

He opened the door and Harry preceded him into a different world. He was in a huge hidden greenhouse; hot and humid, full of plants of all shapes and sizes, many of which he recognised on sight.

_[*Ah! Home!*]_ Horatio said as he slithered off of Harry and disappeared into the underbrush. _[*Goodbye, Harry,*]_ he called out from the shadows, _[*I will ssseesss you sssoon.*]_

_[*Good night, Horatio.*]_ he called out, smiling when the snake mumbled a reply. 

Harry walked around the room, studying the different plants, some in pots with strange smelling soils, some planted in the ground, even more depending from hidden sources from up in the ceiling to fall gracefully to the floor like green waterfalls. Severus silently approved as he unconsciously stepped around several 'clear' areas where the soil was enchanted and stayed to a subtle path of grey stones set to let one traverse the room without stepping on anything. Harry turned around to face him, "Quite amazing. You grow your own 'herbal' stock?"

"Only those plants I have to have fresh or are too exotic for the apothecary to carry." He gave Harry a sidewise glance. "Of course, there is the odd plant or two in here I don't want others to know I have."

"Hmmm, I see at least three that are illegal--" Harry quirked a brow at him.

Snape fidgeted a bit, uncomfortable. "Hmm, well, yes, there is that too--but useful--they are necessary in some of the darker and healing potions."

"True, some can either kill or cure." Harry mused. "Speaking of which, you've no foxglove here."

He hesitated before answering, "Ah--foxglove is not a _proscripted_ plant--"

Snape hoped Harry understood the risk he was taking even showing him this room. One of the plants, _Cruento Lacum_ or 'Blood Pool', was dangerous; like a benign bromeliad, the dark blue flower held a deadly blood-red poison in its cup. Just owning one could get you sent to Azkaban without the proper permits from the Ministry; he somehow doubted they would willingly give one to a former Death Eater no matter how reformed. Harry stepped up near it, but stayed well away; even just a tiny bit could kill. "A Blood Pool--I've never seen one before."

Severus thought about stopping him from going too close, but Harry had done so before he could say anything.

"So lovely, so deadly. The colours are amazing--the red is so vivid." He paused, clearly admiring the plant, its insides painted a pale butter yellow, the poison lurid inside. "I am assuming Horatio stays away?" Harry said as if discussing the weather, even though Severus could see he was nervous.

Snape shrugged. "It wouldn't matter if he did; he's impervious to it and most other poisons."

Harry put his hands behind his back and continued to wander around the glass room, Severus a few steps behind him; there were a few vines in here with minds of their own. One of them was reaching for Harry even as he thought about it. Severus waved his wand and the vine retreated. Harry startled, stepped back, and tripped on another vine sliding across the floor falling heavily into Severus.

Luckily, Snape was braced for it and didn't fall. It took a few moments for Harry to right himself and stand away, moments Severus was blindingly aware of him pressing against him. Unsettled by the contact, he said, "I think we need to leave. The Night Creepers are too active tonight and while used to me, they do like fresh prey."

Harry shivered involuntarily and eyed the dark green vines creeping across the stone floor, their long, white roots and shiny leaves extended towards him. Night Creepers this size could easily kill him. As they were leaving he asked, "Why Night Creepers? What potion are they used for?"

Snape laughed wickedly. "They're here for defence. Someone _might_ get in, but they will _not_ leave." He picked up a strand across their path, the remainder of the plant quickly travelling to where they stood, poised and ready to enfold a new victim. 

"Give me your hand and hold still," he said. Harry didn't hesitate and held out his hand, palm up. Severus took it and flipped it over so that the back was exposed. He spared a glance and seeing Harry's open trust, he laid the vine with its curling roots across Harry's hand, his own underneath holding it steady. He watched closely as the tendril's coils dug quickly through the tender skin.

Without thought, Harry commented, "Hey, it doesn't hurt. It actually feels pleasant"

Judging the moment right, Severus raised his wand and said "_Specialis_". The vine gave a convulsive shudder and retracted; the tendril, when exposed, bore tiny spots of Harry's blood. Shaking his head, he gave Harry his best 'I-can't-believe-you're-being-this-obtuse glare while mildly replying, "Surely it occurred to you that any plant killing by contact could not exactly repulse its victims if it wanted to survive? Your hand will heal quickly and the vines will not touch you now." Harry watched in amazement as the vines retreated from more places than he'd seen and the tiny, bloody pinpricks on his hand disappeared. "They now have your scent and taste and know you as a friend."

Harry grimaced. "Thanks. Makes me glad I'm not a vegetarian." He eyed Snape, an almost shy smile lighting his face.

Inwardly pleased that his deliberate words about friendship seemed to affect Harry deeply and not unpleasantly, Snape chuckled, released his hand, and they continued on their way out. Near the door, Harry stopped suddenly, peering closely into the vegetation near the door. Looking perplexed, he ventured, "Uh, Severus?"

"Yes?" Snape asked, turning away from the doorway he was about to go through.

"Why are there two chickens in here?" Harry asked.

Snape snickered, "Eggs. Horatio loves eggs. He eats them almost as fast as they lay them--won't take them from the farmers unless he steals them. And there are more than two chickens in here. I'm surprised you saw them at all. They're fairly good at hiding, although every now and again the vines grab one, but by and large there are usually five."

A sibilant hiss came out of nowhere, _[*Yummy eggsss. I likesss them fresssh. The othersss were too old. Nasssty vinesss ssstealsss my chickensss.*]_

Harry laughed, "Seems Horatio agrees," and they continued out the door.

****

When they got back to the sitting room, Harry yawned and said, "It's late and I'm tired. I really should be off to bed," and thought, _'Preferably in yours. I trust you as much as you obviously trust me.'_

_'Stay the night. Stay with me. We need each other tonight.'_ Severus was confounded by his thought and became aware of his body's long-ignored clamour for attention. _'Stand down, I'll talk to you later,'_ and surprisingly it did.

"Probably not a bad idea," he feigned a yawn; the last thing he really wanted to do right now was sleep. _'Would you really stay if I asked?'_ "Make sure you keep the cloak on. I have no doubt Draco is up and about; his promise to Albus to stay put probably isn't worth a toss." _'He hurt you, I know. Don't let him hurt you anymore.'_

Harry took the cloak off the chair back. _'Ask me to stay--I don't want to leave. I need you--I need something--kind tonight.'_ Before putting it on, he caught Severus' eyes and said, regret in his voice, "Thank you. I feel ever so much better." He threw the cloak on and left the rooms before Severus could reply.

He sank back into the cushions of the couch, "What the hell was that all about?" he asked himself. "Bloody hell!" He was most upset with his body right now. _'He's just a child and will you just shut-up!'_ It was not letting him be; he was definitely aroused. _'For pity's sake, leave me be. Hold someone in comfort one time and you think it's an invitation to bed them.'_ He was most disgusted with himself.

Unbidden came to his mind the softness of Harry's hair, the kisses he'd unknowingly bestowed, the warmth of his body next to his, the feel of hard muscle under the robes he wore, under his hands, Harry's weight against his body, the feel of his fingers in his. It overwhelmed his senses and he relived it. _'No, no longer a child. A young man and, the gods help me, I want him.'_

On his way to a very cold shower, he drained both glasses of brandy still standing on the side table. Defeated and unable to scold himself anymore, he finally made his way to his lonely bed.


	8. Part I Ruthless

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part I : Severus  
**Chapter Eight : Ruthless**

**Sunday : 22 August 1999**

The incident that evening had been a revelation to Severus; he'd thought he'd buried those feelings for Harry over five months before, but he could not deny his response when he'd held him this time. Afterwards, whenever they met, he fiercely suppressed his feelings, not wanting to frighten the younger man with their unexpected intensity.

Snape wanted more. Something for himself. Harry for himself. It had been a long time coming.

For the first time in his life he found himself in Dumbledore's office seeking counsel. He needed reassurance from _someone_ he wasn't going off the deep end with his desire for a young man barely out of his childhood. Handing him a cup of his cursed tea, Dumbledore had been insufferably smug about the whole blighted thing. 

Albus took a sip of the scalding liquid, apparently satisfied with its strong, milky sweetness and said, "Severus, you are assuming Harry was _ever_ young; I assure you he's older _inside_ than he looks. It seems perfectly natural to me that you be together. After all, the two of you have been dancing around each other since he was a child. And considering what you went through at the final battle--I've just been waiting for _both_ of you to grow up."

Severus continued to stir his tea. The Headmaster always made it too hot. "Thank you _so_ much Albus. Your sentiments do much to ease my mind," he said with all the sarcasm he could muster.

Albus chuckled and shook his head, taking another sip, the cup rattling the spoon on the saucer. "Severus, you know I'm right. Or, did you miss the obvious signs that Harry has been thinking about it ever since the two of you started working together?"

"Hmmm, was that before, or after he started sleeping with Draco?"

"Severus, you're purposely being obtuse. Do I detect a note of jealousy?" He laughed. "He was 17 years old. How long did you expect him to wait while you figured it out?" He offered him a plate, "Biscuit?"

He shook his head and wondered why he was the _last_ one to 'figure it out'.

Putting the plate back on the desk, Dumbledore commented, "If you expected him to pine or languish for you, you'd be sadly mistaken. Although, I am thinking that might just happen this time if you don't get off your duff and do something about it. Silly git. You've upped the ante now. He knows you care. Any more delay on your part and you risk injuring him." He fixed him with a baleful eye, "I would be most displeased were that to happen, as would Remus, I think."

"Remus? What does Remus have to do with this?" Severus asked, mystified.

"You don't live in a vacuum, Severus. Of course, as Harry's nearest 'relative' he'll surely want to tell him about it. And Remus will certainly want to know your intentions." He eyed Severus, waiting for the storm.

"Intentions?" Severus exclaimed loudly. "Wait a minute. I haven't even slept with him yet, and you're talking about our whole future together? What if I just want to shag him?" he asked almost yelling.

Albus gave him one of his infuriating smiles. Severus would've given everything he owned to wipe it off his face in the most painful manner possible. "My dear boy, please accept my humblest apologies. I thought you were further along in knowing your own mind than you are. Now shoo and think it over. You obviously have _not_ dug deeply enough."

Albus motioned him through the door and before he knew it, he was winding his way down the stairs, the door shut firmly behind him.

Bemused, he thought, _'Surreal, this is getting surreal.'_

****

**September/October 1999**

Severus had given Harry more than a month to change his mind, to go back to Draco. During that apprehensive time, he also did his own soul-searching to further explore his underlying motives and feelings. The time of introspection showed him that, despite his heated words to Dumbledore, he wanted more from Harry than just a 'quick shag'--a lot more.

One night, several weeks after the duel, he'd seized a golden opportunity and asked Harry nonchalantly if he would like to join him for a drink. With apparent enthusiasm Harry had come to his quarters to share 'a small libation'. Bolstering his own courage during their ensuing conversation, Severus had finally broached the subject of Harry possibly entering a relationship with him. While that seduction had not gone _exactly_ the way he'd envisioned it (and the memory could always bring him a smile and a frown), it was promising nonetheless and shortly thereafter he and Harry had moved in together. A few weeks more, time Harry needed to heal, saw them falling into their intimacy after some surprising compromises.

Their relationship, as it grew, was at times tumultuous, with a stormy passion. At other times it fit them like an old comfortable pair of shoes, well broken in and worn whenever possible. Harry found the security and affection he'd been looking for; someone who understood what he'd gone through and who didn't always ask him if he was all right. Severus found these same considerations from Harry along with a freshness from his youthful perspective and an enthusiasm he'd long thought dead.

Harry's eagerness and desire had astounded him. He had his own yearnings answered when Harry gave him complete trust despite the ugly memories Draco had left him. A trust Severus had found impossible to betray even when he'd learned the extent of the hurt Draco had caused him. However, that did not mean he'd told Harry everything he'd found out about it. Harry'd had enough to deal with, without learning how close he came to dying even after his break-up with Draco.

****

**26 October 1999**

Late in the evening, long after Harry would normally have been in bed, Severus dragged his sorry self back to their quarters, exhausted after a very long, unsettling two days. He and Dumbledore had confronted Draco the day before over his actions against Harry, among other things. The night before, Severus had come to bed long after Harry was asleep and had left before dawn, long before he was awake.

After a gruelling morning and an ugly afternoon, Severus had retired to his private lab to brew a complex potion, a double dose of which he had in his pocket. After he'd finished it, well after dark, Dumbledore had personally escorted Draco to the outskirts of the castle grounds and, with extreme private censure, dismissed the Slytherin from Hogwarts. After seeing him well on his way, Dumbledore had adjusted the wards to warn him if Draco ever returned and to exclude him, forcefully if need be.

Severus supposed, looking back on it, he shouldn't have been so shocked when Harry felt he'd betrayed his confidence. They'd only been together a few weeks; he should have known Harry would think Draco's departure from Hogwarts (in a cloud of unspecified disgrace) was because of the assault he'd told Severus about; it was the one thing Dumbledore could not ignore. There was no way for Harry to know Severus had never said a word about it. He'd not needed to--Dumbledore had already known.

As it was, he was ill prepared to be met at the door by a very angry Harry. "Severus, did you have anything to do with Draco's expulsion?" he asked, his eyes wary, telling his fear of the answer.

"Yes, I did but not necessarily for the reason you think," he'd replied, his voice raspy.

Harry sputtered. "Severus, I trusted you. Why did you tell Dumbledore?" he asked, his eyes raw and wounded.

Severus sighed, his heart starting to pound. He could feel Harry slipping away from him; the conviction of betrayal evident in his eyes. "I said nothing, Harry. I didn't need to. Dumbledore already knew."

"Oh? So Draco just walked up to Dumbledore and confessed?" he asked heatedly.

"Actually, that's not too far from the truth," Severus said, trying to suppress the sordid memories of Draco's 'confession'. "Draco gave himself away."

"That makes me feel _so_ much better," he retorted, his sarcasm almost on a par with Snape's.

Severus felt something snap deep within him. His usual calm fled, leaving an irate human being behind, one who was very tired of people assuming the worst of him. "Perhaps I read you wrong, _Mr_. Potter, but I _thought_ we had some _small_ trust between us. Evidently, I was wrong. How dare you speak of your supposedly betrayed confidence _in me_ when you cannot even muster a tiny shred _for me_. Thank you _ever_ so much for your sordid little assumptions."

He stalked into the bed chamber, trying to take off his heavy robes, the room suddenly unbearably hot. His shaking hands were not managing the clasps well and he closed his eyes, trying to get his temper in check long enough to take the torment off his back. As he tried again, his hands were stilled by cool fingers covering his. The hands gently moved his aside and effortlessly unfastened the clasps, shifting the outer robe off his overheated body where it fell in a puddle behind him on the floor. His exposed skin soaked in the cooler air gratefully.

The softest of lips firmly met his in a contrite kiss, Harry's arms sliding around his waist to pull him close. He couldn't help it, he was damned already and he let Harry hold him, his own arms moving around his shoulders. Their hearts beat comfortably through the thin shirts they wore. Harry was first to break off his kiss, his lips trailing across Severus' cheek and down his neck; he rested his head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "That was pretty rotten of me, wasn't it? One would think I'd have learned by now, wouldn't one?"

Severus felt his reply rumble through his chest. "Yes, one _could_ think so, if one were not already so inured to so many poor assumptions."

There was an inherent loneliness in the statement and Severus could see Harry's heartfelt chagrin at his part of it shine in his eyes. "You deserve better," Harry said simply, his hands running up and down his back soothingly. 

Severus felt the anger dissolve, leaving behind a bone-wearing exhaustion. He gratefully accepted both the apology and the hug. They felt too good.

Harry broke away and taking Severus' hand, led him back to the couch in the front sitting room. He sat near the end and pulled Severus down to half-recline across his lap, his head and back resting on the side pillows at the arm. He was conveniently handy and Harry leaned over to steal a long kiss, one hand stroking Severus' face and hair, the other snug around his waist. He pulled away and said quietly, his searching eyes a few inches away. "Let's start this over." He smiled and stole another kiss. "How was your day, _dear_."

"Seems I can't resist anything about you," Severus murmured, both relieved and amused. "It was shitty, _honey_." he drawled.

Harry chuckled. "Tell me all about it," was spoken into his lips.

Severus groaned and pulled him down for the kiss he really wanted, long and deep, something to erase the harrowing day and leave them both breathless. Harry's hand clenched almost painfully on his waist as he pulled him closer. He pulled back, gasping, "Now, now. None of your redirecting distractions." Suddenly serious, darkening green eyes bored into black ones, "I _need_ to know."

He sighed, leaning back into the cushions. "Do you remember the conversation we had with Dumbledore the day of the duel? About the possibility of a spell or a Potion controlling you?"

"How can I not? The day was rather traumatic," he answered bleakly. "Why? Did you find one?"

Severus nodded. "Just yesterday. Shortly after our first night together, I did go to Albus with your description of feeling drugged; it was the break we'd been looking for to start pursuing action against Draco and to justify searching his quarters. I'd not needed to tell Dumbledore about the assault--he already suspected what had happened between you and Draco. To him it was self-evident from your behaviour that day, although without confirmation from you--or me--there was little he could do. He decided to keep Draco at the school, for a variety of reasons, but mainly to keep an eye on him."

He chuckled. "One of those reasons was to try and find out how Draco was getting information you weren't privy to. We were delayed in looking for the potion when we, quite by accident, discovered how Draco and his father had been listening in on Dumbledore's office."

Harry raised his brows in inquiry. "Really? How were they doing it?"

"Mice. Specially charmed mice. Albus has a whole passel of normal ones up there, likes to have them around as kind of a cake crumb patrol. One of them climbed into my pocket unawares and when I got back here afterwards, Horatio honed in on it and had a quick snack--you know how he is." Harry chuckled and Severus returned his smile. "A few minutes later, the mouse was regurgitated on my lap. Horatio was extremely apologetic, or at least I think he was, but since I'd never seen him get sick from anything before, I took the slimy thing to the lab and tested it. I found the listening charm almost immediately."

He grimaced. "I'm afraid Albus had to start his whole mouse collection over again, but Horatio had fun. Did you know he can consume about two dozen mice at one sitting?" Shaking his head, he chuckled, "Truly amazing. He 'lost' about half that he ate, all charmed, and was so stuffed from the rest you could see their shapes through his skin. I don't think he stirred for a week afterwards."

Harry grimaced. "Ewwww. That's a picture I could have lived without. I did wonder what happened to him, but didn't think much of it at the time. He's not exactly the most energetic creature at the best of times."

Severus chuckled and then sobered, saying quietly, "Several days later, once we were sure the Malfoys were no longer listening in, Albus and I took the liberty of searching the Slytherin House. We've been searching almost every day for the last two weeks. Only yesterday morning, we found the potion; it was the _Basium Excessum Potion_ as I had suspected; Draco had hidden it very carefully. Had I not been familiar with the _Schema_ he used, one of Voldemort's most obscure I might add, we might never have found it. It was all the evidence Albus needed to bring him in for questioning yesterday afternoon."

Harry was very still, holding his breath. Releasing it, he whispered, "And--?"

With a moue of distaste, he answered, "Draco proved--resistive--to both straight questioning and _Veritaserum_. This morning, early, we finally used his own Potion on him." Severus wiped his mouth unconsciously, trying to erase the feeling of Malfoy from it. The gesture was not lost on Harry who, in a rush, understood what had happened to 'interrogate' Draco. He said as much and without thought bent down and using his lips and tongue, laved Severus' mouth, trying to wash the bitter taste from it. When he ended with questioning eyes, Severus felt surprisingly clean again; he smiled his gratitude and suddenly knew it would be all right.

With more confidence, he continued. "I don't know how to put this nicely, so I'll ask your tolerance for a few moments." Harry's chuckle was felt in the side pressing up against him. "Draco did use the potion on you, for months. Over time you resisted him and he had to resort to _stronger_ means of administering the potion until the only way he could get the information Voldemort, and later his father, wanted was to bite." Severus felt Harry shudder against him. _'It's the last bite I'm worried most about,'_ he thought taking a deep breath. "We also found out he was losing control the longer he used the potion--it caused much of the violence and anger he exhibited, especially near the end." He'd almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Your feelings of being drugged were spot-on. You _were_ being drugged; it was your magic making you feel 'wrong' about the whole thing." He lowered his voice and raised his hands to Harry's face, his fingers trying to comfort him before his next words, "Draco tried to kill you when you ceased to be useful to him; the assault injuries almost did it. He used his saliva to prepare you, didn't he?" 

Harry nodded, his face blanching. "Among other things," he whispered.

Severus pulled him down for a lingering kiss, trying to help him through it. Dredging it back up would be hard; at least Harry was no longer trembling--he had to take heart from his quiet. "It was no small wonder you felt woozy that night, he'd turned the potion into poison, which is why you took so long to heal. It's amazing you survived; it was a most insidious formula." He hid his thoughts from his lover. _'And it's still not over. I only hope we can cure you.'_

Acting like he suddenly remembered, he took out his wand saying, "_Accio Venenum_." A brown bottle sailed through the air to land in his waiting hand. He held the bottle in front of Harry. "Recognise it?" he asked, continuing the playful tone.

"How could I not? Remus, Moody, and Poppy had to force it down your throat every time; the _Infensus Curatio Potion_." He gulped. "You made a new batch? Today?" He knew how long it took to make. If it were possible to feel more guilty than he had a few moments ago, he knew it now.

Severus chuckled, "About the only thing I could think of to keep me from your considerable charms, _Mr_. Potter."

"Why? Why did you make it?" Harry's confusion was palpable.

"Purely for precautionary reasons. We want to make sure the poison is truly gone." He savagely thought to himself, _'Liar,'_ but kept his face and voice unaffected. He uncorked the bottle and handed it to him, saying with a perfect Moody accent, "Now drink your drop like a good little boy."

Harry almost choked on his laughter; Severus could hear Moody in his head saying those same words to him every time they'd forced the horribly bitter concoction down his throat. Harry drank it down in one long swallow. "Ech!" he exclaimed, scrunching his eyes half-shut while putting out his tongue. Turning his head and trying not to gag he said, "I can't even ask you what's in it for a distraction. I know every vile ingredient by heart. Eccchhhh."

"Gag that back up and I'll make you swallow it back down, spit and all." However, his words were wasted, the potion was already working.

"Oh, that's--wicked! I feel--ever--so--much--" his voice trailed off, his head lolling on the back of the couch.

Severus sat up, lifted himself off of Harry's lap, and stood. He trailed his fingers down his skin lightly, starting at Harry's cheek and ending on his chest, the breathing steady under his hands. He considered the sleeping face of his lover, something he didn't get to see very often as he usually woke up with him curled around his back. _'So magnificent--I will not lose you to him!'_ he thought fiercely even as he levitated Harry off the couch and walked him back to their bed chamber.

****

Dumbledore walked out of the fireplace in Severus' and Harry's bed chamber and turned to give a hand to Madame Pomfrey who followed shortly behind. She was carrying a basket with several potions and as she laid them out neatly on the bedside table, they could hear the soft murmurs of conversation from the room next door.

"Do you have everything you need, Poppy?" he asked quietly, half listening to Severus' soft voice.

"I think so. I have an extra dose of the potion he should be giving to Harry about now and a bottle of the restorative Severus will need when he's done. I'm not sure having him _Sanos_ heal Harry is a good idea, Albus. Severus is not a trained healer and although his _Sanos_ abilities and control are quite impressive, he's never tried to heal something of this magnitude before--assuming we can find it in the first place," she murmured.

Dumbledore sighed. "Poppy, we've had this discussion before. For obvious reasons, we cannot call in an outside Healer unless Severus is proven unsuccessful. Given what happened a few years back, I have every confidence he will succeed and the healing will be stronger because _he_ did it--no one would ever mistake his intentions."

She blew a frazzled piece of hair off her forehead and smoothed it back into place. "I know, I know. I'm just worried--we're cutting it awfully fine, you know."

Albus was about to reply when they heard Severus approaching the room. "You're very lucky Dumbledore kept the notes on how you made the potion the last time." He felt Harry's face and arms as soon as he came through the door. He looked up at Albus and Poppy, the worry he'd not allowed himself in the other room showing clear. "His skin is running hot and cold--a good sign--the potion is fighting off the lingering poison and its Dark Magic." Turning back to Harry he said, "You'll never know how close you are to dying. Another fortnight and we would be burying you. I am _not_ enamoured of the idea."

Waiting for him, Dumbledore said, "I don't think any of us are, Severus." He stepped away from the side of the bed while Poppy moved over to help Severus lay the unconscious young man down; they turned him on his side.

"All right then, let's see if we can find it," Severus mumbled as much to himself as to her. Hearing the spell meant to disrobe Harry, Dumbledore turned his back and wandered over to the window, noting the moonlight on the moors. There were some things Headmasters were just not meant to see unless the Medi-Witch and Potions Master, both better suited, needed his help. 

Dumbledore winced thinking of the exquisite (and he was quite sure, excruciating) torture Severus had put Draco through to get him to talk. He still didn't know what disturbed him more about the long hours with Draco--the lengths Severus went to get the information or his total lack of remorse for his methods. _'Of course, given Severus' basic goodness, I really shouldn't be doubting him like this. Brutal, though. I'd always suspected Severus would be merciless in his pursuit of vengeance if crossed. I just wish I hadn't been there to confirm it.'_

While he never would have thought Severus was prone to unconscionable acts, he knew he could be quite hard when he needed to be so. Severus' innate ruthlessness was made calmer, deadlier when it became apparent, from Draco's taunts, that not only had he _enjoyed_ what he'd done to Harry, the boy was still in grave danger. The lethal stillness in Severus' demeanor, the hard ice in his shuttered eyes at Draco's bragging had been chilling. _'Draco never could keep his mouth shut and his arrogance in thinking he was untouchable was his real downfall. Just like his father.'_

When Draco proved he could repeatedly throw off the _Veritaserum_ and the _Imperious Curse_, Severus had used Draco's own seducing potion against him. After each drugged kiss, each nip of reluctant flesh, he'd wielded the _Cruciatus Curse_, among others, with the finesse and delicacy of a master surgeon, carving out small, invisible areas of pin-point agony, concentrating on those areas Severus had _made_ sensitive by his consummate employment of Draco's potion. 

And all the while, Severus' sultry, dulcet tones murmured sadistic love songs to him. Softly stroking Draco's sweat streaked hair, his pain wracked face, the silky voice told him precisely what he was going to do to him in the gentlest of tones, if he didn't talk, didn't tell him what he wanted to know. And when Draco refused, he did those things, with no pity, implacable in his honesty. It eventually blended into one horrific nightmare as, hour after hour, Severus played Draco relentlessly until he sang.

Finally terrified of his former Potions Master turned Grand Inquisitor, Draco hadn't stood a chance of resisting in the end and Albus had been grateful when he'd finally broken. He had no doubt Severus would have cheerfully taken him apart, bone by bone had it been necessary, to make Draco tell him how he'd planned to kill Harry.

But Severus had given the first dose of the healing potion to the young man before Albus had sent him on his way.

A sharp hiss from Poppy followed by an "Oh gods," from Severus told him they'd found the entry point for the poison. A few moments later, he felt the clean surge of _Sanos_ magic--a deep tone, long sustained and steady. _'A deep injury, then,'_ he thought, sending his hopes along with his silent support. After an interminable time, when it broke off, he released the breath he was holding.

Turning to finally face them, he saw Harry lying quietly under a duvet, his face very pale. Severus was sitting next to him on the side of the bed, the empty vial of restorative in his hand; his face, if possible, was paler than Harry's. He was stroking Harry's hair, the look of love in his eyes startling in its intensity. He started swaying where he sat and as he fell, Poppy was there, easing him down next to his lover. She removed his boots and in an act of compassion, she joined their hands before stepping away to stand with Dumbledore at the window.

"They'll both sleep--more's the better," she said sagely, sighing. "The wound was horrible, well hidden on the perinaeum, deep, almost sliced clean through with no infection, but healed only on the surface. So near the other as to make no never mind. It's probably why they'd not noticed it; they thought the pain from it was part of the other hurts." She looked back to the bed. "Severus almost wore himself out, but it worked. It was a hard spell, more so because of the age of it."

She chanced a sideways glance at Dumbledore. "Our Severus loves him very much." Not a question, a statement.

"They _both_ love each other very much." He gazed into her sky blue eyes, "Now, let's see if we can keep them alive and together long enough for them to admit it out loud to each other." He laughed quietly, glad Harry was going to be all right.

She chuckled, "I'm not sure I'll live that long, Albus."


	9. Part I The Book

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part I : Severus  
**Chapter Nine : _The Book_**

**Friday : 20 June 2003**

"So, you never told him?" Cerise asked him, her tea long forgot in the excitement.

Severus sighed, the hour late. "No, the next morning when he woke, he was feeling much better and remembered only the beginning part of the evening before," he chuckled, "except he was curious why I still had all my clothes on."

She laughed merrily, "What did you tell him?"

"I don't really recall," he yawned, "I just remember I took my time distracting him from further questions."

Laughing at his meaning, she asked, "And everything was fine afterwards?"

"As well as any relationship goes. We never spoke of it again and I think he assumed that the potion was either unnecessary or had done the job on its own." He covered another huge yawn, his eyes tearing. "I'm sorry Cerise, I really must be off to bed."

She nodded, "Of course Severus, it really is quite late. Thank you for your lovely tale--it explains much to me." She tilted her head at him, considering. "You know, you worry too much. With everything you told me tonight, I think you're making too much out of it. Certainly too much to have stopped eating and sleeping." At his noise of protest, she harumphed. "Don't try and fool me. You've obviously lost weight and your insomnia lately is becoming the thing of legend. And while I am grateful you stopped to talk to me, I am thinking you really need to go."

"Very well. I am sorry I haven't been by to see you more often," he said chagrined.

"Severus, had I wanted _that_ much company I could have either requested a livelier spot or could go 'visiting', even to you, you're not that far away. No, the Nirvana of a former Madame is quiet solitude and the _choice_ of whom I see and when and in what manner."

"I could just move you," he offered, standing.

As he levitated the bench back to the end of the corridor and raised her painting back to where it had been, she replied, "That's very sweet, Severus, but no, I am quite content where I am. Although, I do expect an up-date from you as soon as you resolve your situation." She tilted her head, "Or if you need to talk again. I'm ever here, my friend."

He turned to face her again. "I promise, Cerise." He stood close to her portrait on the wall and ran his fingers lightly down the side of her pictured face.

"It's never the same is it?" she asked, sobering at her inability to touch her lonely friend. She blew him a kiss. "Now go--and be happy."

With one final, grateful gaze, he turned around in a swirl of robes and was gone.

****

Despite his talk with Cerise, he realised he was no closer to a solution than before. Certainly, his commitment to working it out with Harry was stronger, and he felt better than when he'd started; however, he was still wandering the halls wondering what he'd done wrong, when they had gone wrong. He was full of doubts about things that had been blazingly obvious to him only weeks before.

_'Didn't he know I would always be there for him, no matter what demons followed us? I never doubted his sincerity in the matter, but was I plain enough?'_ There had been (and still were) nights when Harry awakened from nightmares, some newer, others older and deep. Severus was always there to love the shakes away with tight arms and sultry voice just as Harry was there for him with soft strokes and wanton lips when his dreams turned ugly. They both had grim memories; they never had to explain, it was always understood. And their loving, for Severus rarely thought of it as just sex, whether bold and playful, or soft and slow, reflected a deep unwillingness to harm each other; they'd already suffered enough.

His path back to their rooms took him past the door to the Astronomy Tower, but he knew Harry was not there tonight, even if it was still his favorite place to think. Severus tried to remember when the problem first began; the change was so gradual he almost concluded there really was no beginning.

_'No, wait--I think it may have all started with that thrice-damned paper, two years ago! That was my second mistake, I never should have let the matter drop.'_ He shook his head, angry at himself, convinced he'd found the beginning.

It was almost a relief he could now pinpoint when it started--when his potions paper had been published. He hadn't been blind to Harry's unwillingness to discuss it and had felt the deep seated inadequacy he was displaying. Severus had railed at Albus for even bringing it up. Harry's response had been mixed. He could tell Harry was truly pleased with his accomplishment, which had made him happy. However, he could sense the unease as well. He didn't know what was wrong there, but he'd down-played the whole incident as best he could until he'd thought the problem had gone away. _'I should have confronted him with it, but it's too late to do so now. Damn!'_

_'Our relationship is waning. Harry's distracted.'_ Severus was miserable. _'Harry is absent a lot, not at his school, but his broom is missing. Where can he be? The only indication I have that he has been home at all is his mail disappears every few days from his desk.'_

What else was he to think? _'Since he picks up his mail, maybe I should write him?'_ He couldn't bring himself to do it; it felt too much like begging. He was not too sure how much of his pride he could give up to get Harry back and this was at the heart of his problem.

However, upon further reflection, it turned out he had a bigger problem. While there was a small, quiet part of him loving Harry enough to let him go, if that was what he truly wanted, there was also a larger, fiercer, possessive part of him willing to release him only over his dead body. With Voldemort and Draco gone, the odds of that happening anytime soon had decreased dramatically.

He'd had a conundrum and finally, as a compromise, the two halves of him decided that if Harry wanted to try new things, then the least Severus could do was to see what was 'new'. That had been last month. He'd gone to the library, only to find out the books there were centuries older than he was; he felt positively contemporary after flipping through the pages. A trip to the central library in London had proved wasted as well.

Not clear on what to do next, he went to some of the more discreet 'Adult Wizard' shops he knew of and perused the shelves there. He was of a mixed opinion on what he found. Some were anatomically impossible, some required more magic than he was willing to perform on his or anyone else's naked anatomy, and some were just--squidgey. It didn't help that he wasn't even sure what he was looking for. _'Rather like looking for a lame duck in a pond full of them; you just don't know which one you want until it settles on dry land.'_

He did find hundreds of books on lubricants--"_101 Tubes of Lubes_", positions--"_A Bottom's View of the Top_" or the ever popular "_Kama Sutra - The Many Heads of Shiva_", multiple partners--"_How to Menage Your Trois_", techniques--"_The Reluctant Lover--Make Him Come_", Animagus--"_Doggie Style--A Wizard's Best Friend_" not to be outdone by "_Snakes in the Grass_" or "_Rim Jobs by Your Aardvark Lover_", accessories--"_The Creative use of Testicle Cuffs_", and bondage--"_Why the Muggles Love Duct Tape_". However, given his and Harry's mutual agreement, most of it was useless (although he was amused when ten of the "101 Lubes" had been his creations.)

He also tried going to a few of the clubs available, thinking he would see something that might give him a clue as to what someone as young as Harry might want. Other than nursing a few hangovers the following mornings and doctoring the headaches from the loud, obtrusive music, he came away empty handed. He chuckled, _'Didn't even get a pick-up.'_ Not that he minded too much--the gyrations he'd seen on the dance floor resembled nothing less than a manic St. Vidas' Dance.

A couple of wild forays into Muggle London did nothing but convince him he didn't want to do it anymore. He'd dodged a thin young man in a poet's shirt and tight leather pants in the aisles of one of the stores who, taking a fancy to him, thought his robes positively medieval. He was disquieted by the displays and the sordid melancholy of the whole thing. Suddenly his stodgy lifestyle had greater appeal.

The propositioning prostitutes with their unhealthy pallor and lewd suggestions on how he should spend his gold, contrasted strongly against the almost genteel protection Cerise had afforded the hard-working men and women of her establishment. It had not taken him long to realise that many of these Muggles he'd met were drugged as well, which made him angry for some reason. He'd felt unclean and decided the Muggles were not as well off as they thought if they could allow any human being to drop out of life so easily.

Many of the happenings he witnessed made him very glad he didn't live there on a permanent basis and the rest confused him. Although he realised, with a smirk, he'd finally found some toys (as they were called) for all of Arthur Weasley's collected but unused batteries. 

Then, night before last, a discreet advertisement in one of the publications he'd picked up in Knockturn Alley caught his eye. It was a book. A book about fellatio.

_**50 Ways to Give Oral Pleasure and Other Answers About Oral Sex**  
(For the Discriminating Male)_

On a whim, Severus tried to imagine just how many ways there really were to give a blow-job, depending on technique and position. After about five or six, he decided there might be something to be learned here, so with quill in hand, he'd ordered the book. The service said it would arrive in a plain brown wrapper; he'd paid the extra Galleon for Express Owl. That was yesterday. The book should be here any time today.

He knew one of Harry's favorite things was a good gobble. If he truly wanted Harry to relax and enjoy himself or he was up for a spot of pleasant torture, all he had to do was take him in his mouth and Harry was putty in his hands, so to speak. And while he'd never complained about Severus' technique, _'Quite the opposite in fact, if his enthusiastic noises are to be believed,'_ Severus decided this was something he might learn more about that wouldn't require him to be younger than he was and might prove enjoyable for both of them. Besides, he liked giving head and was curious.

Taking the stairs down into the dungeons, he resolved that the next time he saw Cerise, he would tell her about his other adventures as well.


	10. Part II The Schema of Things

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Ten : The _Schema_ of Things**

**19 June 2003**

After a most unfortunate encounter with Draco at St. Mungos, Harry spent the better part of his Thursday morning wandering London. He finally stopped at a small park idly watching the young children playing under the diligent eyes of their mothers and nannies and tried to fathom what had happened. 

Yesterday, he'd finally plowed his way through a pile of recent Owls Severus had left on his desk. Several people had written him, some quite gloatingly, with the unwelcome news they'd seen Severus out at the adult book stores and clubs in London. One had been a proposition, the writer postulating that Severus was obviously on a bender and was Harry available? 

He was disheartened and ashamed he'd paid so little attention; he'd not really noticed anything amiss because Harry had his own secret. Actually, more than one. While he was being honest with himself, these secrets were ones he knew would upset Severus greatly once Harry told him about them. He knew how much Severus hated dishonesty and although he'd not lied, per se, he was guilty of a lot of omissions, which was almost as bad. And the longer he waited to tell him, the worse it was going to be.

_'Caught in my own cleverness,'_ he thought. _'Won't Severus be impressed?'_ The thought terrified him in ways he hadn't felt in a long time.

Severus on the prowl? He wanted a lifetime with Severus, but maybe he was just too shallow for him, maybe even boring. Perhaps he was not good-looking enough, not man enough for him, maybe Severus' words of his desirability were just tokens. _'Merlin, I've worked so hard these past four years, no, make that six real years, to make myself equal to him and it's just too damned ironic; I can finally see the end of it and I might actually be losing the one person who has been my main driving force all this time.'_

His age never even entered his thoughts; he'd never felt young. Harry was tired. Bone-wearing, arse-dragging tired. Too tired for thought, too tired for work, too tired for play. He was grateful Severus had been so undemanding lately. It was a welcome relief to just come home to their rooms and collapse.

_'Could I really be losing him? And even if I'm wrong, what will he do when he finds out what I've been up to the last two years? Gods, when did it all go wrong?'_

****

**June/July 1996**

The whole thing began, to his mind, at the end of his fifth year. Sirius was dead and his whole world was filled with a white hot anger at himself and everyone around him. _'Jolly fellow I was back then,'_ he thought at the memories. Shunning his friends, yet craving their company had made his life a wasted ball of misery. While he'd hated him with a fury beyond anything he'd ever known at the time, Snape had turned out in the end to be his salvation.

Even though he had gone back to the Dursleys for the summer, Dumbledore had pulled him out before the first week had ended. While surprised to see him, Harry had been grateful when Remus appeared at the front door to take him back to Grimmauld Place, although he'd not been too keen on the phalanx of security surrounding him on the painful broom trip there. For despite the warnings given to him by Moody, Lupin, and the others, Uncle Vernon had decided to use him as more than a verbal whipping boy when he caught Dudley struggling with Harry late one night.

_'I never thought I would_ ever _be grateful to Aunt Petunia,'_ but, according to Remus, she'd orchestrated his rescue. She at least had been afraid of the Order and had secretly gone to Mrs. Figg with the news that Vernon had gone beyond the verbal abuse of previous years. Luckily, his physical injuries were minor. He'd heard his 'friends' at the Order had a few 'chats' with Vernon and Dudley about it afterwards, but they never volunteered what they'd done and he hadn't cared enough to ask. He suspected it was pretty wicked, though.

With Sirius gone, Albus ostensibly made Remus his Guardian whenever Harry was off school grounds. However, knowing the werewolf would not return to Hogwarts until the start of the term and given Harry's recent troubles, he made Snape his other guardian, telling him he was holding him responsible for Harry's well-being while at the school. Snape was not pleased with this turn of events; he argued it would put Potter in more danger should Voldemort ever find out, but Dumbledore had been implacable about the issue.

Harry assumed he could spend the summer with Remus at Grimmauld Place, but he and everyone else soon left on last-minute missions for the Order, so Harry was transferred to Hogwarts. Harry spent the remainder of the summer of his 16th birthday in the castle. Hating the idleness, he got into more trouble than he probably should have and in disgust, when none of the faculty was willing to put up with his sullen anger, Snape put him to work in his potions lab as a permanent detention.

He'd chopped, sliced, diced, pounded, pummeled, and ground ingredients for weeks until Snape's shelves bulged with the bottled fruits of his labour. Tired of Snape's sniping, the work calming him as nothing else had done, he did a credible job of it; even the Potions Master could not find fault. (Although, true to form, he was left to figure that out for himself, more from Snape's lack of comment, than from any real praise.)

Snape never mentioned the incident with the Pensieve, either by allusion or outright comment. At first Harry thought Snape was just being mean because of his prior actions, but after the first two weeks, conceded he'd always been like this.

If anything he was more silent. Harry'd had to adjust to the quiet way Snape worked: concentrated with no chit chat, words being used for instructions or criticism and nothing more. It was frustrating at first--Harry was used to a lot of background noise, whether it be from his mates in the Gryffindor Common Room or the telly in the Dursley's living room. The dungeons were silent. The crisp thunk of his knife slicing crunchy roots, the faint whisper of Snape's robes as he moved, the quiet pop of potions on a slow boil, and the infrequent terse instructions spoken in Snape's low, dulcet tones, all became preternaturally loud in the dank silence. He was still restless, but the soporific calm of Snape's lair helped him hide it better.

The infrequent letters from his friends had not helped--their misguided cheerfulness and deliberate lack of comment on the events of the previous school year set his teeth on edge. On one hand, it reminded him of his imprisonment (as he saw it). On the other, he found it irritating no one was willing to wallow in his self pity with him. 

Snape was grossly unsympathetic; the one time Harry tried to talk to him about his frustrations, he'd stared at him, told him to "stop whinging about it" and "mind the mandrake roots, if you please." Totally infuriated, he'd mangled some of the roots. Snape had calmly (for him anyway) made him stay the night until, at 4:00 am, he'd finally done it right. However, before allowing Harry to retire, he adjured him to write a letter of apology to Professor Sprout for undoing her work of months with his incompetent mishandling of the mature roots. Harry had been ready to kill for his bed when at sunrise, he finally staggered into the common room released from service for the weekend.

The summer passed quickly in the same manner, with Harry helping Snape in the lab during the days and evenings and falling asleep at night so exhausted he'd no time to really think. Before he knew what was happening, it was a mere three weeks before school was to start. He felt more even-tempered, more under control. He grudgingly acknowledged it had been Snape's utter lack of regard that had helped the most. He never treated Harry any differently before than after, that is to say, he was perfectly awful but in a consistent Snape-ish way.

Two weeks before school started marked the beginning of their relationship.

****

**14 August 1996**

Harry had been in the lab labelling the last of the ingredients on a long list Snape had given him before he'd left for parts unknown on Dumbledore's behalf. He'd been gone a week. Harry had put the jars on the shelves and was beginning to sweep up the bits of debris, thankful Snape wasn't there to pin him with his hateful sarcasm for the small waste.

He'd just finished cleaning up and had removed the old work cloak he wore and usually hung by the door, when Dumbledore came sweeping into the room, a sense of urgency following in his wake. "Harry, do you know where Professor Snape keeps his personal potions book?" He eyed Harry's hesitancy. "It's all right, Harry. I just need to see it."

Harry took him back to Snape's office behind the lab and pointed at his desk. "He keeps it locked in the bottom drawer, but I'm not supposed to know that."

Dumbledore chuckled as he sat down in the chair and placed his hand on the drawer. "Come here Harry, I think this might be the time for an impromptu lesson." Harry walked over and stood by his side. "Put your hand next to mine (but not touching) on the drawer front. Close your eyes and tell me what you feel."

Harry did as he was asked. When he placed his palm on the face of the drawer, his scar tingled and he could feel the magic woven into the old wood. Feeling it, he could also sense the type of magic involved and without thought he spoke the word "_Patefacio_" out loud. He jumped back when the drawer popped open. 

Dumbledore laughed out loud, "Remind me to tell Severus to place a stronger lock on his drawer." His eyes twinkled with his amusement. "Very good, Harry. I had a feeling you would be able to sense the magic. We call it a _Schema_--the identifier and logic to a spell. It's a useful tool if you want to get into things, break wards, or reverse spells. Not many have the talent to do so." He rummaged in the drawer and pulled out a worn volume with bits of paper stuck out at odd angles. "This, however, I will do myself. While I have no doubt you could open it, it's a little too personal to let you try. You do understand?"

Harry was still in shock over the drawer. "Ye-yes, sir. Professor Snape's going to be upset enough over me opening his drawer."

Dumbledore laughed again, his eyes wicked. "Then I guess we'll just not tell him then, now will we?" he asked slyly.

Suspicious, Harry considered his words. This was NOT like the Dumbledore he knew. He grabbed his wand and before Dumbledore could react, he called out "_Aperio_!". The spell, _reveal yourself_, hit Dumbledore full in the chest, knocking him back into the chair but nothing else. Harry felt sheepish.

The Headmaster looked puzzled for a moment and then a slow smile lit his face. "You'll do, Harry. Very well done. I meant no harm by my words, but I can see where you would think that they were out of character for me. After all, you've never seen _this_ side." He chuckled, "I think, maybe, you're more paranoid than Severus."

"I didn't know anybody _could_ be more paranoid than Professor Snape," Harry said dryly.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I wish we had time to--Come, we've work to do."

Mystified, Harry followed him out into the lab. "You're going to have to gather the materials and set this up; it's been decades since I tried my hand at a potion. Used to be pretty good at it, though." He thumbed through the now unlocked book and, finding what he wanted, started to read off for Harry a long list of ingredients and materials. Harry got Snape's prized pewter cauldron, the one he kept locked up in the cabinet in his office. In fact, most of the ingredients were in the locked cabinets and in each case Dumbledore had him break into them using his newly discovered talent until he could do it quickly and efficiently even though no two locks were the same. Harry thought Snape a paranoid bugger after opening a particularly stubborn cabinet containing the small gold and glass cauldrons; there had been three separate locks on it.

Once they had filled two tables with all the ingredients and had three differently prepared cauldrons out, Dumbledore began to instruct him in what he wanted him to do. Harry set the fires under two of them and when Dumbledore told him which herb was the first, a cold piece of advice from Snape came floating into his head. Harry stopped him saying, "Sir, if you want me to make this, that's all right, but it would be better if you would either let me read through it all the way or do so out loud first, so I know what to expect. Sir."

"Very well," he said with a nod, reading through the entire potion. It was quite complex; they would be at it for several hours. When he was done, without prompting, Harry went over to the tables and rearranged the ingredients in the proper order and placed the first four in front of him. He added them in the correct order, with the correct type of fire. Soon they had three bubbling cauldrons going at once and Harry began to relax. This was actually fun.

Harry could feel Dumbledore's speculative regard. As he watched the cauldrons softly bubble, he thought with inner amusement and some trepidation, _'He'll probably tell Snape about this--I wish I could see his face when he does. He'll probably expire on the spot--or else hex me.'_

"While we wait, could you please go over the next bit?" he asked Dumbledore, who obliged him. They waited in companionable silence, Dumbledore not wanting to break Harry's concentration. All too soon, Harry was busy with the next stages with Dumbledore taking over the pewter cauldron while Harry managed the other two. When they had distilled the two cauldrons into one and were waiting for the contents of the third to finish, Harry commented, "I don't know how he runs so many cauldrons at once. We only had three and that was quite enough. I've seen him with as many as seven at once."

"Severus _is_ the best in England. Possibly the best in Europe. When he prepares the Wolfsbane Potion is when you should watch him. It's not the just the number of cauldrons he uses that makes it so difficult--it's the precise timing as well. He moves like good poetry when he puts it together," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"If I might ask, sir? Who's hurt?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Dumbledore stared at him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "What makes you think someone is hurt?" he asked cagily.

"The ingredients, sir, and the pewter cauldron. I remember Professor Snape saying, for the most part, pewter is normally reserved for medicines. Some of the herbs and other things here are used primarily for serious wounds and internal injuries. The rest are used for pain. We prepared them for their separate properties, the analgesic portion is particularly strong, and we are now getting ready to combine them all into one, potent potion. The rest is pure conjecture, especially since this is one of Professor Snape's personal potions."

"You're full of surprises this evening, aren't you Harry?" He thought about it a moment. "You're correct, but _who_ is unimportant right now. I'll let you bring the finished potion up with me and you can satisfy your curiosity then."

Harry nodded even as he eyed the last cauldron. It was almost ready. Precisely at the timer, he decanted the last cauldron into the pewter one and as instructed, stood well back. It hissed and a thick column of vapor appeared, red, the exact color of old red roses just as the instructions had said. They'd done it. He stirred it five times clockwise and six times anticlockwise, held the spoon up in the air and let it drip three drops and then removed it quickly, setting it on a special surface of the worktable where it hissed. The tingling in his scar was felt only when it stopped; the silence behind it, glaring.

He prepared and labeled the 24 bottles it would fill and began to ladle the cooling contents into the glass containers, setting each sealed bottle into the carrier he'd set up. Measuring the correct doses of the thick green potion was hard but between the two of them, they managed with no spills and no waste. _'Snape should at least be happy with that,'_ Harry thought as he started to clean up.

"Here, Harry, let me do that, we've little time to waste, although I know Severus would throw a wobbly if we just left it like this." With a wave of his wand and a whispered spell, everything was clean and back in its proper place. "We'll just have to wait until he gets back to lock everything up proper," he said as he warded the door on their way out.


	11. Part II The Penalties of Success

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Eleven : The Penalties of Success**

**14 August 1996** (Continued)

The trip to the infirmary was made in silence, Harry carrying the wire basket with the bottles of potions. _'Six days worth; whoever it is must be hurt badly for it to take that long to heal. This potion only lasts seven.'_

Madame Pomfrey met them at the door, the worried look on her face smoothing when she saw the contents of the carrier. "Good, you were able to find it. Thank you, Mr. Potter, you may go."

Dumbledore made a face of impatience. "Poppy--Harry made the potion, not I--as we discussed. Oh, don't look at me in that tone of voice; he did it well. I told him he could accompany me when I delivered it." She made a sour face at him. He explained patiently, "More than any other in this school, Harry needs to know what he's up against. It's time he _sees_ some of the risks and the penalties for success." Shaking her head, she stood aside.

They walked to the back of the infirmary where a large area had been curtained off. As they approached, they could hear a low, sustained groan made by someone in extreme pain but not conscious enough to actively complain about it. They heard some murmured words, softly spoken, and the groaning stopped.

"Damnit, when will he get here with that potion? I don't know how much longer he's going to stay under." Harry recognised the quiet voice; it was Remus Lupin.

Dumbledore swept the curtain aside.

"HellifIknow," Mad Eye said, whirling around to confront them, his wand drawn.

"Greetings, gentlemen. We have the potion," Dumbledore said, ignoring the threatening wand.

"Harry!" they both exclaimed quietly, in deference to the man on the bed. It was Snape. He was obviously injured badly, his pallor making him whiter than the thick bandages on wrists and neck, the bruises stark. It was disquieting to see him this way; he almost looked more than human, yet smaller than life.

Dumbledore waved his hand towards the carrier. "Come Harry, give Remus one of the bottles--he's had a hard day and I want to make sure he's available to help us get this down Severus. He's bound to be unhappy with us when we do."

Moody eyed first Dumbledore and then Harry, making him feel uncomfortable as Moody's magical eye was roaming all over the room. Dismissing his unease, Harry handed Remus a bottle after removing the seal for him and making sure nothing got into the potion when he opened it. "It's going to taste awful--sorry."

Remus made a grimace as he downed it. Within moments he began to relax, "Gods that's good. Severus always knows how to brew a good potion!" He turned to look at Harry, "All the good ones _always_ taste bad." He laughed quietly and walking over, gave Harry a big hug. 

"It's good to see you, Remus," he said hugging him back.

"Good to be seen," he chuckled, "For a while there, didn't think I would be."

Moody came over, a big smile on his ugly face, and clapped him on the back. "Ya did a good job there, Harry. Now let's try and get the auld sod to take his drop like a good boy."

Harry uncorked a bottle and held it ready while the two men propped Snape up, Dumbledore lessening his weight with levitation. Harry'd not heard Madame Pomfrey come up behind him holding her wand; she reversed the sleeping spell she was using to keep the Potions Master under. He immediately slanted against them, rigid, his waxy face paling even more. Obviously injured, his wakeful silence was probably the worst part, his eyes were glazed with pain, unseeing.

Madame Pomfrey gently took the bottle out of Harry's hands and, opening Severus' mouth, she started pouring it in, her wand at his throat outside the bandages there, making him swallow it without choking. Dumbledore had been right, Snape was not happy getting the potion and struggled for a few seconds, but the effects were apparent even before they finished getting it all down him. Some color started coming back to his face, and the rigidity left his body as he sagged against the two men holding him up, unconscious again.

"Good batch there, Harry. It worked like a charm. He's finally, truly asleep," Madame Pomfrey said with no small relief, handing Harry the empty bottle. He replaced the cork seal and set it back into the carrier with the other bottle from Remus. She took the carrier with her as she left the cubicle.

Moody yawned and stretched, a sight almost as grotesque as his eye. "Well, now Snape's had his drop, I'm going to dossdown in one of your posh guest rooms, Albus, and get some shut-eye." He nodded to them all and went a couple of beds away, falling asleep before his head hit the pillow. Loud snores soon followed.

Remus sighed and pulled out his wand. Pointing it at Mad-Eye, he said, "_Confuto_". Moody's snores stopped abruptly, although his mouth still hung open.

"I'm going to have to remember that," Harry said with a grin, "Dean snores something awful."

"Is Dean a friend?" Remus asked.

"Yes, he's a dorm mate," Harry replied.

"Well then, be sure to tell him _before_ you use it that you might. It can leave a powerful headache if the recipient isn't expecting it," he chuckled.

Dumbledore stood from the chair he'd been sitting in. "I have most of what I need; I'll debrief you again tomorrow, Remus. Hopefully, Severus will be awake by then and I can hear his story as well." He smiled. "Harry you did well--the potion was effective, and your career as a burglar is off to a good start. All in all, I would say, it's been a good day." He reached over and gave Harry a hug whispering, "I believe, too." Harry was mystified but hugged him back.

Releasing him, he stepped over to the bed and with an oddly gentle gesture, smoothed his hand over Severus' hair. He bent down and whispered something to him. A small smile graced Snape's pale face in his sleep. With a final stroke, he straightened up and left the infirmary, whistling a tuneless song.

Harry looked over to the bed, noticing the bandages on Snape's wrists. They were already stained red and darkening fast. "Ah, Remus, shouldn't Madame Pomfrey look to his bandages?"

The werewolf looked over at the visible bandages, remarking the leakage. "Nah, we can change those ourselves; luckily it's better than before. That is, if you're up to it. You squeamish?"

Harry shrugged. "Never done it before, so I don't know. Quidditch wounds don't much bother me, though."

"Well, you won't know 'til you try." He opened a cabinet on the wall and pulled out one of the long rolls of soft bandaging fabric Madame Pomfrey kept stocked there along with a jar of ointment. "Ointment heals and keeps it from sticking to the fabric," he explained as he set them both on the table. "Fortunately, he's dosed up pretty well. This would hurt something awful otherwise." 

He looked at Harry taking his measure and shrugged. "Should warn you, though, they're pretty messy. Voldemort gave him to Lucius," he said cryptically.

Harry didn't know what that meant, but he suspected he was about to find out.

"Burglar?" Remus asked, unrolling the bandage on the wrist on the far side.

"Yeah, Professor Dumbledore had me reading Professor Snape's _Schema_ to open all the locked cabinets in his office and in the--" he hissed in a breath at the bloody shreds that had been Snape's wrist. The once graceful appendage was torn and scraped raw with some of the skin cut open and hanging. Blood welled and seeped into a cotton sheet Remus had placed under it. _'He's been bound,'_ Harry thought, appalled. He opened the jar of ointment and held it out to Remus who wordlessly indicated he either needed to hold the wrist or smear the ointment. 

For some unknown reason Harry chose to apply the ointment. He went over to the ewer and poured some water in the basin. He waved his wand over it saying, "_Tersum_", a spell every First Year learned in Potions to make the water into a purifying solution. While waiting for the water to turn pearly, he removed his robe, placing it carefully on the back of the chair, and rolled up his long sleeves to above the elbow. He then dunked his hands, wrists, and lower arms in the treated water and without rinsing them, he shook the excess off and walked over to the bed.

He dipped his damp hands into the jar until he had a heavy coating of the thick ointment on his fingers. Remus blotted the exposed wrist with the sheet it lay on to remove the excess blood, and then slowly levitated it up off of the bed, by hand and forearm, so Harry could have access to all the sides. When Remus told him it was steady, Harry set to work. As gently as he could, he spread the salve over the wounds, working it into the deeper cuts and abrasions, adding extra to the strips of skin, which he gently placed back into their proper locations like puzzle pieces. Every time he touched a piece of the wound he could feel a buzz in his scar, unsettling but not painful. When he was done, he inspected his work, making sure he'd covered everything.

Then he did something odd. Acting on a whim and instinct, he rubbed the remaining ointment into his hands until the palms were coated too. Wrapping his hands loosely around Snape's wrist like a bandage, he closed his eyes and whispered, "_Sanos_"; he didn't know what it meant, it just came out much like the spell to unlock the cabinets. A warmth flowed from his tingling scar to his hands to Snape's wounds and then stopped. With some trepidation, he slowly removed his hands and opened his eyes. He stared, stunned. The wrist was healed, the skin new and pink, the ointment gone. There were faint white lines where there had been cuts and such, but the injuries were gone.

Remus gently placed a finger on the freshly healed wound, his face perplexed. He removed the bloody sheet and eased Snape's arm down on the bed. He turned to Harry, who was standing there in a dazed stupor. "I'll be damned. You have no idea how you did that, do you?"

Harry shook his head, blinking. "None whatsoever." He was having trouble focusing, more a result of a fuzziness around the edges of his brain than anything to do with his eyes.

"Think you can do it again?" Remus eyed him, his concern for Harry clear in the cast of his face.

"I don't know," Harry whispered, trying to think through the lingering haze. "I'll try."

So he went through the whole routine again. Pour from the ewer, spell the water, dip his hands, and get the salve. As he was smearing the ointment on the second wrist Remus was holding more firmly with a Cushioning Charm, for it was broken, he was vaguely aware of Madame Pomfrey arriving quietly in the cubicle. He wondered if she'd heard the same surge of magic he'd felt; almost bell-like, it had happened after he'd said the words to the spell. He concentrated on finding that place within him he'd found before, but was distracted by Remus softly warning Pomfrey away when she moved to stop him from working on the other wrist.

He finally closed out her almost tangible curiosity and once again dropped into that place he'd found before. Again he murmured, "_Sanos_" and the magic surged forth, stronger this time, easier to pull out. He felt Snape's wrist heat up as before, so hot he wanted to drop it, but in a flash it was gone as were the horrific wounds.

He looked at Lupin; despite his inability to explain what he'd just done, he was strangely unafraid. As he was about to ask him a question, he heard Madame Pomfrey murmur, "Amazing. I wish Albus had been here to see this. He'd warned me it might happen, but I didn't believe him." Thoughtfully she turned and bustled out of the cubicle. Harry was left with Remus.

"Should we try the throat as well?" he asked Lupin, lightly touching the darkening bandages around the Potion Masters neck.

"Can't hurt and the bandages need to be changed in any event." Harry was grateful for his surprising silence on the matter. He really didn't want to talk about it right now.

Harry put his knee on the bed and leaning over, gently lifted Snape's heavy head exposing the vulnerable back of his neck. Remus leant over and unwound the bandage. They both sucked in a breath at the carnage underneath. He'd been bound there as well, the deep ligature marks hinting that he'd been garotted. From the concave injury where his Adam's Apple should have been and the extensive bruising, they knew his windpipe had been damaged--his vocal cords crushed. With the breath whistling through the open bleeding injury, Harry feared the days of the Potion Master's dulcet voice were over.

He got off the bed and returned to Remus' side. He stared at the horrible injuries suddenly realising there must be something else wrong with them, something he couldn't see, or else Madame Pomfrey would have healed them herself. He found himself backing away from the bed.

"Scared?" Remus asked him, eyeing the deep bruising extending down to Snape's pale chest and the torn skin near his jaw.

Harry nodded, saying, "I'm not sure I can do this, Remus. It's so--so large. I'm not--I'm--I don't want to hurt him." 

Remus regarded him kindly and put his hand on his shoulder. "Harry look at me." When Harry lifted frightened eyes to him, he said gently, "Listen to me well. Everyone who carries magic is born with a certain level, a certain amount of magic they can wield. Most of us learn to work within the limits of our magic; some have more than others, some less. But there are the rare few, Harry, the others like you and the Headmaster and even Snape here, who are born with so much that the only thing that will limit you is how much you, or others, believe you are capable of doing." He ran his hand over Harry's hair and putting his face close to the boy's, whispered, "I believe you can do it, don't you?"

Remembering Dumbledore's parting words, Harry started. Remus pulled him close into a heartening embrace and when Harry relaxed a bit, he let him go. "Ready?"

Turning back to look long and hard at the unconscious figure on the bed, Harry gulped, straightened, and went to pour more water from the ewer.

****

Madame Pomfrey went back to her office and unlocked the cabinet behind the desk. She removed a small vial of clear amber liquid from the middle shelf, put it in her pocket and, relocking the press, she went back to the cubicle. By the time she pushed aside the curtain and closed it silently behind her, Harry was working on the larger wound around Severus' neck.

She _heard_ the magic, this time deeper in tone and longer in its singing, struggling against the injuries it found. And she knew fear--for the Potions Master whose injuries were beyond her abilities as a Medi-witch and a deeper fear for the young man pouring his soul into a spell and a man he knew nothing about. She sincerely hoped, not for the last time, that the Headmaster knew what he was doing. Her heart almost stopped when, for one instant, the tone soured before it resumed its steady note and then it was gone.

"This is the last one, Mr. Potter. The potion can take care of the rest," she said briskly. "Remus, catch him."

Remus was startled, but he obeyed and within seconds was holding Harry up when he started to sag to the floor. Madame Pomfrey helped Remus get Harry in another bed and still sitting up she made him drink the restorative she'd brought. "Drink up, Harry. That's it. You'll feel better in a moment." She waited a minute, watching him, and when his eyes came back into focus she asked him, "Dizziness gone?"

He nodded. "Good. Head hurts?" When he nodded again, she gently ran her hand over his messy hair, whispering a spell. When his face relaxed a bit she continued, quieter, but no less impersonally, "You tried to do too much at once, although I'm grateful you could fix his throat. Now lay down there a few minutes and let the potion take full effect while I clean up here." Harry lay himself down and closed his eyes gratefully. She watched him carefully and when he unconsciously rubbed his forehead and scar, she knew they still pained him despite the charm.

She spent a few minutes checking Severus over. The wounds were healed cleanly and fully--even the ones at his throat. Sighing with relief, she cleaned up the debris of the old bandages and recapped the salve, putting the jar away. She spared a quick glance at Harry, noting his body lax in sleep before motioning to Remus to follow her.

When they were out of earshot, Remus rounded on her. "What the hell was that all about."

"Language, _Mr_. Lupin." He laughed and she with him. "Albus always suspected he could do it."

"Do what?" he said with some asperity. "What did Harry do?"

"He reversed the Dark Magic in Severus' wounds. Our dear Potions Master was loaded with it. That's why I couldn't heal them. They're normally very simple to repair, but there was too much darkness imbued in them. Dumbledore told me what he intended when he had Harry make the potion; he'd hoped Harry's defensive magic could help Severus' body rid it of the darkness there. And it seems to have worked."

"Hmmm, I always knew Harry had hidden talents--" he started.

"--but who knew they would be this strong," she finished for him.

"I should go check on him." Remus turned to go back.

She put her hand on his arm, stopping him. "He's well asleep now. The restorative does that, too, if the caster has overextended themselves. Go grab a bed and sleep yourself. You can see him tomorrow. He's not going anywhere."

"Yes, mum." He smiled as he climbed into the nearest empty bed after taking off his boots and outer robe. "Can you tuck me in, too?"

She laughed as she pulled the covers over him, saying, "I draw the line at a bedtime story."

He grinned and pouted. Then he slept.


	12. Part II Thoughts are Poor Company

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Twelve : Thoughts are Poor Company**

**15 August 1996**

Harry came awake the next day with the sun shining full on him. The warmth and fresh air was welcome even as the light was not. His head hurt abominably, the scar itchy. He hastily closed his eyes against the stabbing brightness coming from an open window to his right. For a confused moment he didn't know where he was, but the briefly glimpsed stark white walls around the window and the heavy drawn curtain on the other made him aware he was in the infirmary. Again.

He was halfway out of the bed when he heard Dumbledore chuckling in the next cubicle, his robes rustling. He didn't mean to listen in, it just happened. After all, they were doing nothing to hold their voices down--right? 

"You should have seen him, Severus. It was amazing. He was able to open all your cabinets and drawers--"

"He did what?" Snape's words were almost a screech.

_'Oh yeah, this is where he hexes me into tomorrow,'_ Harry thought, laying back down.

"Yes, Severus, all the warded drawers, doors, cabinets, presses, trunks, and yes, even your precious bottom drawer, although I did draw the line at your private potions book itself. I broke into that; a little eccentric, I might add, but doable." There was more rustling of cloth and the clink of a cup on a saucer as Dumbledore chuckled lowly. "You're going to have to either get more creative with your wards or just learn to trust Mr. Potter as much as you do me."

Snape sneered, "Albus, I trust you about as much as I do Horatio when he's molting. I might even trust him more. I cannot believe you let him violate my privacy like--like--oh you!" 

_'Horatio?'_ The sound of the bedclothes and the squeak of the springs told Harry Snape had fallen back into the bed.

"Severus, calm down! What choice did I have? While I admit there was some amusement value involved, I had to let him--get a feel for your magic. What better way than through learning your _Schema_?"

"Albus, what are you _not_ telling me?" The low hoarse voice carried some venom.

Harry was as suspicious as Snape. _'Good question. I'd like to know myself.'_

"When Moody brought you and Remus in here yesterday--" His voice trailed off, and he was silent for few heartbeats. He gently continued, "Well, let's just say I'm grateful to be assaulted by your usual sarcasm. I honestly didn't think I would ever hear it again. Among the other injuries we discussed earlier, Lucius crushed your windpipe. You were a mess." 

With a dismissive voice Snape said, "I'm always a mess when Lucius gets done with me. It's easily fixed. I vaguely remember him trying to throttle me."

Dumbledore's voice was very serious. "Not like this, my friend. Lucius imbued your wounds with Dark Magic; it was eating you up from the inside. Poppy was helpless; nothing would heal. We were desperate."

"Al-bus, what did you do?" Suspicion once again laced his hoarse voice.

"You were dying, Severus. You're here because Harry made your _Infensus Curatio Potion_ with a small twist; he filled it with his defence magic. I made notes as to the process in your book, should you ever need it again."

Harry sat up, startled. _'I did?'_ It was a bad move--his head's pounding worsened and he bit back a cry. Slowly, he eased himself back down into the bed, the headache lessening but not going away. It was unusually quiet on the other side of the curtain.

He was therefore unprepared for Snape's outburst. "Damn it, Albus! Do you know how dangerous that potion is to make? If one ingredient is misplaced--"

_'Tell me about it. "Stand back" might have been my first clue.'_ Harry remembered the plume of fumes.

"Calm down, Severus! Obviously the young man did a good job or you wouldn't be here to bitch about it," he exclaimed with quiet asperity. "And lower your voice. He's still sleeping."

_'Not anymore,'_ Harry chuckled silently.

Snape hissed, "He's here? Why? What happened? What foolhardy, imbecilic thing did he do _this_ time?" 

"One of these days, and it may even be today, I'll gladly help you shove your hasty words down your throat as you chew and swallow," Dumbledore said dangerously. 

_'I'll help.'_ Harry thought with his head filled with the gratifying vision of choking Snape's mouth full of oversized letters.

Severus sighed, his voice older than his years. "What do I owe him, now?" he asked resigned as if he knew _that_ tone and knew he'd stepped in it.

"Severus, it was beyond words. I watched the whole thing from my office." 

_'How did you do that?'_ Harry wondered.

"He was changing the bandages on your right wrist; they were torn up, by the way, the left broken in so many pieces--" his voice trailed off.

"Albus, a little less thinking and a lot more talking. Please. My many talents do not extend to Divination."

Dumbledore chuckled, "Much better, Severus. Now where was I? Oh yes, Harry. When he was done with the salve, his intuition took over and he used a _Sanos_ spell on it. The power he poured into it was immense, but he wasn't even aware of it, didn't even know the spell. It came from _inside_ him. His instincts were perfect. I've only seen it once before--when you saved Lucius all those years ago. Pure, spontaneous magic. It was a joy to watch." He sighed. "You should have seen the look of unconscious concentration on Harry's face when he went back in the second and third times. He was afraid, mind you, but he did it anyway."

He chuckled wickedly, "Which reminds me, we'll need, no, you'll need to teach him how to control it. He overdid it last night and passed out after doing the other wrist and your throat. Poppy gave him the restorative, but it put him to sleep."

Harry sat up again in panic, his heart pounding in time with his head. _'I have to work with Snape? Again? I don't know if I can face him.'_

Severus audibly gulped. "Dear gods. A _Sanos_? So powerful, so dangerous--" He suddenly chuckled, "Well, I suppose I should be glad this summer didn't sour him to me completely, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

_'That's what you think!'_ Harry silently chuckled.

Dumbledore laughed. "He has the makings of a fine Potions Master. Even made me read the whole thing through out loud before he'd start. Well-organised, he laid everything out in the order needed (without prompting from me, I might add, he'd only heard it once) and his timing was impeccable. It's a good batch he made."

"If it wasn't a fluke. Ow! Watch it, my arm's still sore. All right, all right, I get the point. So Potter can do instinctive magic. Why am I not surprised? And the 'twist' to the potion was the same?"

"So I gather. It certainly rid you of the residual Dark Magic even though that's not what you originally intended for it."

Harry could just picture Snape raising his brow in that supercilious manner he had at his next words spoken with haughty disdain. "Not exactly. The potion was derived from an obscure formula I found many years ago and painstakingly adapted to use for the reversal of minor Dark Art spells, although, I admit, not to the extent you describe." He paused and went on thoughtfully, "Lucius always uses an _Inficio Schema_ Riddle taught him, which is very hard to overcome. Potter's affinity to the Dark Lord's magic must have been in use as well."

This was a morning of revelations for Harry. _'I have an affinity for Voldemort's magic? Just because he's lived inside me doesn't mean I have access to that kind of thing, does it?'_

His thoughts were interrupted when Snape sighed, "Don't worry, Albus. Much as I hate owing the young whelp anything, I will thank him properly." He paused and abruptly asked, "Did you clean up my lab?"

"I did, but there was no time to waste relocking everything, so I warded the door to the lab itself properly. No one will be able to touch anything until your return."

"And my book?" He sounded almost frantic.

"Safe in my office," Dumbledore calmly said.

The panic ebbed from his voice. "Thank Merlin. If the Dark Lord ever found that book--brass Knuts would have more value than my life."

"No, Severus. Thank me. And thank Harry," he chuckled at Severus' groan of frustration. "One other thing, Severus."

"What? I can't wait. What other sublime tortures have you planned for me?"

_'Tortures? What about me? I'm the one he's going to be teaching.'_ Harry was definitely starting to feel sorry for himself.

Dumbledore's voice was firm. "I want you to keep up the Occlumency lessons with him as well."

"Absolutely not! Do you know what the cretin did to me? What he saw? What I see?" Snape was outraged.

_'Well not all of it, but enough.'_ Harry cringed from the stolen glimpsed memory of the little boy cowering in the corner.

Dumbledore continued, his voice gentle. "Yes, Severus, I know. He saw one of your worst memories, one you tried to keep from him for more reasons than just your own humiliation. Mr. Potter's violation of your memories is as much my fault as his; I let him see some of mine in my Pensieve when he was younger. He's probably not aware of just how inviolate the Pensieve is and how the law punishes unauthorised viewing. You were most generous in not pressing charges against him about the whole thing. And you see his memories. Unsettling, aren't they? Don't quite match the gilded life you originally thought, do they?"

_'Charges? Violation?'_ Harry was almost as panicked as Snape.

The Headmaster cleared his throat and continued on implacably but without censure. "However, we both know, don't we, Severus, that had you continued the lessons, had you watched him better _as you were assigned to do_, he might not have been at the Ministry in the first place. Voldemort might not have been able to lure him there." He sighed. "It was the 'might-nots' and Harry's resistive anger that kept me from censuring you both in the first place."

"I can't, Albus. Please, don't order me to. Every time you bring me closer to him, it's harder and harder to keep us away from _HIM_," He pleaded and the bedclothes rustled. "_This_ is what happens when he suspects, and he does suspect, Albus. _This_ was just a little test of my loyalty. Lucius whispers poison every time I'm away. And Fudge eats a little more at Lucius' table every day."

_'Snape? Begging?'_ Harry didn't know he had it in him to beg and almost felt sorry for him.

Snape laughed, a grim, dead sound, "You make it sound so noble that I didn't press charges against Potter. I assure you I would have had I thought he was doing more than satisfying that rule-breaking curiosity of his. But to whom would I have complained? The Order? The Aurors? Fudge himself? Oh, that would have been rich, worth at least a few laughs." His voice changed to a high pitched sing-song whine, "'Little Snape was _violated_ while teaching little Potter how to throw off our Master.'" He paused, resuming his normal low tones, "It's bad enough I have to be grateful to him for my miserable life, the very act of healing me an act of violation in itself. Gods, the _Sanos_. Don't make it worse."

_'Violated?'_ He began to shake, what had he done?

Dumbledore said gently, "I'm sorry Severus. I--we--have no choice if we are to win this thing. You know I'm right. You don't have to like it, you can even hate it if it makes you feel better." There was rustle of clothing like a hand reaching out. "But we _both_ know--It Must Be Done."

Snape moaned in frustration. Dumbledore sighed deeply. Snape echoed him. "Very well, Albus. I will teach him," he said in a dull voice. "All of it--the _Occlumency_, the _Sanos_, and the _Schema_ control you so much want him to have. Damn me, anyway."

"Severus, I--we decided, you are not going back to Voldemort. This," he paused with another swish of heavy robes, "has convinced us it is no longer safe for you to go back. Not that anything you did was safe, but as long as Harry's _mark_ is on you from the _Sanos_, we all know your life is forfeit. I'm so very sorry your salvation was also your downfall--"

"You know, Albus, you're just making it worse. He wants to be yelled at, so yell at him already. This namby-pamby stuff is right nauseating," Moody said from the door.

Snape's unforced laugh sounded like he was smiling. Harry knew from his time at Grimmauld Place that while Moody may be ugly and smell to boot, and sometimes made disparaging comments about the Potions Master, he was the closest thing to a friend Snape had. They'd certainly pulled each other's bacon out of the fire many times before, if Moody's stories were to be believed. Snape had always remained silent on the subject, but his frequent glares at Moody had held a touch of indulgence as well.

"So tell me, ya auld sod, how big's your gratitude bank. I pulled your sorry bum out of there, Remus _tried_ to do the same, and Potter saved your life, twice. Sounds to me like you're going to be overdrawn pretty soon." He laughed roughly.

"Hardly," Snape shot back. "Seems to me I was 3 for 1 with Potter, 2 for 1 for the werewolf, and as for you," he laughed evilly, "I lost track a long time ago, but I'm fairly certain this makes us even."

"Not a chance! What about--"

Harry listened to them with only one ear. His mind was still whirling with the whole conversation and its import. It was a bit jarring to _finally_ realise the personal stakes involved and felt some of his residual anger at the whole situation dissipating.

************

Harry was looking out the window when a rush of warm moist air blew across his ear with the whispered words "Listening where you shouldn't? Shame on you."

Harry started when Remus' hand settled gently on his shoulder, his head bent close; he'd not seen him come in. "Oh! I'm sorry, I woke up and--"

Still close, Remus chuckled. "Don't get your knickers twisted. Had Dumbledore not wanted you to hear, you would not have. He always has his own reasons for doing things, but I admit, I had thought better of you." His admonishing words belied the humour in his eyes.

"You were listening, too," Harry replied just as quietly but heatedly.

Remus reddened a bit, "Ah, yes. I was, but I already knew what they were talking about." Almost as an afterthought, he straightened and held out another vial of the amber liquid. "Madame Pomfrey told me to have you drink this."

Harry downed the sweet liquid easily and asked, "What were they talking about? What happened last night? What's a _Sanos_ Spell? What did I do? Why is it dangerous?" It all came out in a whispered rush. He looked at the vial; he felt measurably better, the headache completely gone.

"A _Sanos_ spell?" Remus mused out loud, "Well, that certainly explains some things." He looked hard at Harry. "Come, let's go to the other side of the infirmary where we won't be disturbed. Madame Pomfrey has not cleared you yet and there is no way I am going to cross her. She's scary when she's mad."

Harry chuckled, the picture of Remus cowering before Madame Pomfrey making him feel a little better, as was no doubt Remus' intention in the first place.

They crossed the infirmary slowly after first passing the closed cubicle next to him. Judging from the voices, Moody and Dumbledore were still visiting with the Potions Master. By the time they reached the front of the infirmary, Harry realised he was weaker than he thought and settled into some squashy chairs set aside for visitors near the entrance doors where they could see the entire infirmary around them. Harry noted absently it was a defendable place--one with few surprises.

"Now to your questions," Remus began without preamble in a normal voice. He paused, obviously searching for the right words. Harry suspected the concept was complex at best, incomprehensible if not explained properly. It turned out he was right when Remus said, "The _Sanos_ is not _a single_ spell, it's a class of spells. Based on what you said last night, you know what a _Schema_ is, right?"

At Harry's nod, he continued. "You need to know someone's personal _Schema_, their way of casting spells, as well as the _Schema_ of the original spell, in order to perform any _Sanos_ spell. A _Sanos_ Spell works by the caster imbuing a piece of themselves into the spell being cast to override or reverse something in another spell the person is suffering from. The _Sanos_ spells are Healer Spells. The incantation is always _Sanos_, but the _intent_ of the caster dictates what is done. Are you with me so far?" he asked.

Harry nodded, "I think so. The caster of the _Sanos_ spell needs to know two _Schema_, the normal one of the person they are trying to heal, the other of the spell the healer is trying to reverse."

"Spot on, Harry. The casting of a _Sanos_ also requires someone with the ability to do so. Not many are blessed with such a talent, or cursed, depending on one's perspective. Evidently you are. Last night you were apparently able to easily find Professor Snape's _Schema_ when you opened all of his locks, which by the by, _is_ quite a feat. Locks are very personal, especially to someone as suspicious as Snape. You also had to identify the _Schema_ of the Dark Spells in Professor Snape's wounds in order to heal them."

He hesitated, "Pay attention here, Harry. Dumbledore is especially eager for you to learn this next bit." At Harry's look of concentration, he continued, "Most of all, you had to know the _Sanos_ even exist in the first place. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you had never even heard of it before last night."

"No, I don't even rightly remember what it was I did in the first place. I vaguely remember holding Professor Snape's wrist and my scar getting warm. You asked me if I could do it again. But beyond that--"

"Dumbledore says it was instinctive. Personally, I think the knowledge was something left in you when you survived Voldemort as a baby or maybe something left over from Lily only just now remembered. With all the Occlumency you were doing with Professor Snape, you probably have an affinity with him and his injuries triggered--something."

He suddenly got very quiet. "It's dangerous because of the emotions of the caster. If they're not pure or if they are filled with anger or hate, the intent cannot be to help but to harm and the _Sanos_ will kill, not heal. I want you to think about this. Had you _truly_ disliked Professor Snape he would not be here today, alive. The _Sanos_ has the power to take life as well as give it."

"The Headmaster asked Professor Snape to teach me how to control it," Harry said, stunned by Remus' revelations.

"Well, Severus _is_ a man of many talents; I wasn't aware he knew and practised the _Sanos_, but it doesn't surprise me. For all the odious behaviour he hides behind, he's a good man, one I am grateful to have at my side in any fight. He's very powerful, his knowledge immense. You could do much worse for a teacher."

He laughed, "Although, one must wade through a lot of shite to get to Severus. His only real flaw is he's the only one who doesn't acknowledge his or anyone else's good side. Those of us who deal with him regularly in the Order just take his outbursts of sarcasm as the defense mechanism it is and forget it, or better yet, give it back to him. I assure you, he can take it as well as dish it out. No, most people only see the 'Snape' Severus allows them to see--a fairly handy device if one's a spy. That and a Pensieve, of course."

"Why is looking in a Pensieve a bad thing?" Harry asked since Remus gave him the opening.

Remus drew breath and was interrupted by a loud voice, "Hey, Professor? What'ya doin' all the way over here?" Moody came and joined them, the wink he gave Remus from his normal eye an indication Dumbledore had sent him over.

"Trying to answer some of Harry's questions," Remus answered him.

"Why do you call him Professor, Mr. Moody?" Harry asked deferentially. Moody still made him nervous.

He guffawed, "Did you hear that, Wolf? _MR_. Moody, he called me." He turned to Harry. "The Professor here's the smartest of our lot. Oh, I know everyone _thinks_ Snape is and maybe he has the most book smarts, but he's usually always off doing stupid things, like going places and hearing things he probably shouldn't, which makes him dumb as dirt in my book. Now then, the Professor here, he stays quiet, he listens, he don't talk much and when he does, it has meaning, if yeh take my drift. In my book, that makes him the smartest person here." He paused, "So what're yer questions?"

Somehow, Harry knew he didn't want his last question answered by Moody, but he didn't have much of a choice when Remus spoke up saying, "He wanted to know why looking in someone else's Pensieve is a 'bad thing'."

Moody's magical eye fixed on him in that uncomfortable way he had. Harry just knew he was reading his soul, which felt pretty black at the moment. He asked quietly, "Whose Pensieve you look at, Harry?"

"Professor Snape's, while we were doing the Occlumency classes." He hung his head, ashamed.

"Now, that wasn't cricket of you, Mr. Potter," he said. "What did Snape say?"

"He threw me out of his classroom and refused to teach me anymore."

"So that's what happened--never would say. He was right twisted over it, though. Thought he was coming unglued there for a while, not that he's ever very together. Can't say that I blame him much, eh, Harry?" Mad Eye stared at him, reading his reactions.

Harry wanted to take the 'out' Dumbledore had given him, but he couldn't. There had always been a part of him that knew it was wrong when he'd done it at the time, for all his justification of 'curiosity'. "No, I _knew_ it was wrong when I looked. It was there, I was alone, I took the chance I wouldn't get caught. Pretty stupid of me, all in all. I didn't mean to hurt him, though. He was wrong about that. I was just curious. And I didn't feel the way he said I did with what I saw."

"What did you see, Harry?" Remus asked him quietly.

Harry hesitated. Should he tell? No, it was too personal, too private, and it had hurt the professor too much, so much he'd set it aside rather than risk Harry seeing it. But Remus had been there. He remembered the anger and the horror he'd felt as he witnessed Snape's worst memory and he had to know. "Why didn't you help him? You were a Prefect, you could have stopped it. Why did you just sit there and let my father do it? Why?" Moody looked mystified, but Remus paled.

Remus stopped him with his hand in the air. "No more, Harry. I know of when you speak. And I have no answer for you. I was wrong. You're right; I should have stopped James. He was such a jerk back then. Many is the time I have kicked myself for not doing something, even for Snape, even if only because he was a person. I just never saw it that way at the time and _that_ is the best excuse I have." 

He shook his head at Moody's unspoken question. "No, Moody. Not even to you. If Severus wishes it kept secure, then it shall remain so. I owe him at least that much. Whatever it was, I can assure you, he did not deserve it." He looked sad.

Moody didn't need to be told twice. Harry suspected that Moody, more than anyone, knew Severus' motives and his respect for him really knew few bounds, which was why he covered it up with his belittling statements; however, Moody _knew_ Snape was aware of his respect and _that_ made it all right in the end. Harry sighed, wishing he could be that easy with someone. He'd had to be careful around Hermione and Ron too much this last year and had keenly felt their distance. And he knew this next year would not only be no better, it would probably be worse.

Mad Eye was thoughtful as he said, "Sounds to me like the youngest member of this little group needs to make an apology to a certain professor. Looking into someone else's Pensieve without permission is punishable by time in Azkaban, the charge the same as rape. Since that person is still here and not dodging Dementors tells me Snape was pretty magnanimous in not pressing charges against him. Seems to me, at the very least, he deserves a 'Thank You' as well."

"I would agree with that assessment," Remus said standing up and stretching. "Perhaps we should leave him to it?"

"Yeh know what yeh have to do, eh, Harry?" Moody said, his eye roaming again. They left together in more ways than one.

Once again he was left alone with only his thoughts for poor company.


	13. Part II More Than Meets the Eye

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Thirteen : More Than Meets the Eye**

**15 August 1996** (Continued)

Harry made his laboured way back to the interior of the infirmary, his steps dragging; he slowed the closer he got to Snape until he stood outside the closed curtain. It was quiet. Harry had a surge of hope that Snape was sleeping and he could put this off, when a low, disembodied voice disturbed his thoughts. "Enter--or better yet, leave."

Gathering his tattered courage, Harry pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the large space. Snape's eyes were fixed on the opening. "Oh, It's you. You're here. I've seen you. Now, go away," he said and then turned his head to look back up at the ceiling, ignoring him.

In that brief glimpse of Snape's face, Harry noted he was his more normal ivory colour than the stark whiteness of the night before, although he looked much older than before he'd left on the mission. His eyes were still smudged shadows in his face, and there was a haunted quality to them that gave Harry pause. "Um, I don't think--Uh, that is, Mr. Moody and Remus said--"

Still gazing at the vaulted ceiling, Snape interrupted his stammering. "I see learning my _Schema_ did nothing to teach you eloquence. So be it. Now go away."

Stung, Harry spluttered, "What? You don't even know why I'm here."

"Nor do I care to know. The ruminations of your puerile adolescent mind interest me not. You've more to say?" He paused. Harry was tongue-tied--even in bedclothes and bandages, Snape was intimidating. "No? Excellent! Good day to you, Mr. Potter."

"Now wait a minute." Harry finally found his voice and his ire. "I saved your life. The least you could do is hear me out."

As he turned his head slowly to look at Harry, a small, familiar glint in Snape's eyes warned Harry that the Potions Master was almost at the end of his patience, but he just couldn't shake the feeling Snape was pleased in a small way as well. He was certainly civil enough as he mildly said, "A small point. All right, I concede; I'm all ears, Mr. Potter. Speak away."

Harry drew breath and, courage in hand, saw Snape was about to comment. "You conceded the point. Sir. Please don't interrupt me." At Snape's terse nod, he blurted out quickly, "I'm sorry I looked into your Pensieve without permission last term. I was mostly curious; I meant no harm. I knew it was wrong, though, and although that won't take it back, I just wanted you to know I was sorry."

Snape looked thoughtful a moment. "Knowing this, would you do it again if the opportunity presented itself?"

While Harry had envisioned on his way over the several responses he might have to counter, and rehearsed suitable replies, this was not one of them. He thought about it and said slowly, reluctantly, "I might think about it more, depending on the circumstances. I can't promise I wouldn't do it again, but if I did, I wouldn't be as impulsive about it."

Snape's raised brows showed his surprise at Harry's response as if he'd expected a pat, glib answer. "Well, who knew? Potter has some small integrity as well as power. I can work with that."

"Work, sir?" Harry asked, knowing full well the answer.

Snape regarded him closely a moment; his face fell as if disappointed. Smoothing it into indifference, he transfixed Harry with serious, piercing eyes. "Potter, let's get something straight from the beginning. I hate liars only slightly more than I hate dissemblers; you're dissembling right now. You know as well as I that the Headmaster has asked me to resume (against my vehement protests, I might add) your _Occlumency_ lessons and to add _Sanos_ and _Schema_ training as well."

A spasm of discomfort crossed Snape's face and cursing softly, he shifted slightly to ease whatever pained him. He resumed, although it was obvious he was still not entirely comfortable. "This will, unfortunately, require us to spend a great deal of my personal time with you if you are to master both--time in which I will accept no prevarication in any form. I would rather you be unpleasant and tell the truth, than be polite and lie. You made a good beginning a moment ago, let's not ruin it before we start."

"Yes sir," Harry replied, inwardly pleased by the backhanded compliment--his first in recent memory.

He eyed Harry as if reading him, which Harry knew he could very well be doing. He didn't try to block him. Nodding slightly, Snape said, "Very well. I will Owl you with your new class schedule as soon as the harridan who runs this ward says I may leave its accursed confines."

Harry suppressed a smile; he knew exactly how Snape felt. He hated being in the infirmary once he was awake.

Snape caught the smile--his face changed between amusement and annoyance. The customary expression won when he asked, "You have more, Potter?"

Harry raised a brow in surprise. He decided to test Snape's claims about honesty. "Well, no, sir. Not from _ME_."

Snape's confusion almost made Harry laugh. Then he could see the knowledge dawning; he looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. "You're correct. I was remiss." He took a deep breath, and recited like a schoolboy, "Thank you for making a credible potion--even if I still say it was a fluke," he finished, muttering. 

Harry stared at him, arms folded.

He let loose a sigh. "All right, maybe it wasn't a fluke. Damn, you're almost as bad as Dumbledore," Snape mumbled and spoke a little louder to overcome the hoarseness of his voice. "I find it appalling you found your _Sanos_ powers on my person and your _Schema_ talents in my lab, but since it obviously went well I thank you for healing me." His face turned very serious a moment, "There are few things I truly depend upon to do my work, and my voice is one of them. Without it, I can make no potions, can plead no cases, cannot survive. Lucius knew this when he tried to destroy it. Please understand--I am sincere in my gratitude for the healing of it, if for nothing else." Snape held his eyes.

Harry nodded. "I would like to say it was nothing, and perhaps it was since I have no idea what I did. However, you are most welcome."

Hesitating, Harry saw Snape was rapidly tiring, his face flushing with the effort of controlling his discomfort. He went on in a rush, "One other thing, sir." Snape raised an enquiring brow. Harry took this as encouragement. "You made a bad assumption when you caught me looking at your memory. I did _not_ 'enjoy' it. I found the whole incident mortifying; I was ashamed of my father, of Sirius and Remus not only for what they did but what they didn't do, namely stop my father, who was a right jerk if you ask me. It was hard to see my father that way, but it made me understand, just a little bit, why you hate me so much if you thought I was anything like him. I'm not asking you to like me, but I wanted you to know--I'm not like that--at all."

Assuming his imminent dismissal he turned and left the cubicle, leaving a bemused Snape in his wake. They both had a lot of time ahead to think on what had been said--and not.

****

**21 August 1996**

Harry sat in the open window of his dorm room when a tiny owl arrived with a letter. Climbing out of the deep seat, he rummaged around his trunk, got out a Hedwig-sized owl treat, and while the brown beauty was daintily breaking it up, he went back to the window to see who sent the message; from the handwriting, he guessed it was from the Headmaster. Settling in, he opened the envelope after watching the owl eat the last morsel. The little bird, no bigger than his fist, flew to land gracefully on his knee. Flipping her wings back, she waited for a reply. He bent his head, unfolding the parchment he'd pulled out.

It was from the Headmaster, as he'd thought, requesting a meeting with him--he looked at the clock--in two hours, if it was convenient. He shrugged, staring out at the sunlit forest beyond. "It's not like I have a lot to do up here by myself," he said to the owl staring intently at him. 

He held out a hand and the owl hopped into it and minced up his arm to settle on his shoulder. He carefully climbed out of the window and went to his desk. Pulling out pen and ink, he penned an acceptance on the parchment, resealed it, and handed it to the owl who had jumped off his shoulder to pace on the wood top of the desk. Dwarfed by the envelope, the deceptively strong little owl flew off out the window, dropping out of sight quickly. Harry went back to the window thinking Dumbledore might also have sent him a second message about strength and size.

While he wasn't quite sure why the meeting was necessary, he suspected it might have something to do with all that had happened the week before in the infirmary. After his talk with Snape he'd gone back to his cubicle realising he was almost close enough to touch him if there'd been no curtain in the way. It was oddly comforting, but in the night his sleep had been interrupted repeatedly, mostly by pain wracked groans torn from a raw throat, but once from dream induced shouts echoing something from his own. It was then he _knew_ the Potions Master was still very sick--the overheard conversation of the morning between Snape and Dumbledore as well as the later one between the two of them was revealed to be acts of will rather than of wellness. Each time Harry woke throughout the night, he heard the rustling of robes and the sound of Remus' and Dumbledore's familiar low voices trying to soothe the distressed Potions Master back to sleep.

Harry wasn't sure he was ready to accept a human Snape yet.

About halfway through the night, a hand quietly pulled the curtain between the cubicles aside and Remus's head appeared, peeking around the curtain. When he saw Harry was awake, he turned his head and said something to another person in with Snape; Harry assumed it was Dumbledore, although he couldn't be sure from the soft reply. Pulling the curtain wider, Remus stepped through and after closing it behind him, gestured for Harry to scoot over, which he did. Remus sat on the bed, back against the headboard and wordlessly stroked Harry's hair until he fell asleep, his back tucked against Remus' legs. The next morning he'd been moved nearer to the front of the infirmary. 

The distance had helped a bit, but he discovered the next night that the Potions Master was troubled by as many bad dreams as he himself was. Remus sat vigil with Harry each night, and when his own inevitable dreams came, or he was awakened by Snape's incoherent shouts, Remus soothed Harry back to sleep in much the same manner as the others were doing with Snape. For the first time in a long while, Harry felt secure. No one had ever sat up with him through the night; he'd not known the nightmares and disquieting visions were less disturbing when he wasn't alone.

The first day out of the infirmary had been blessedly quiet; he was relieved he didn't have to listen to the Potions Master's vehement protests every time they gave him the potion Harry had made. He'd decided after the first full day in the isolated bed that Snape made a worse patient than he did and if Madame Pomfrey looked frazzled and was a little short-tempered with him, he could easily forgive her in light of the heated arguments flowing out of Snape's cubicle every time she went in to check on him.

Right before Harry's discharge three days ago, he and Remus had choked back the laughter when they saw Madame Pomfrey march up to the curtain around Snape's bed and pausing, straightened the apron she always wore with a crisp tug. She pulled a bottle of the green potion out of her pocket in one hand and readied her wand with the other. She'd gone in, wand extended. A triumphant spell later, a surprised yelp was cut off mid-sound. Remus, his eyes bright with mirth, remarked that Severus should've known she'd really use the full body bind she'd threatened him with the last time she'd been there. A few minutes passed when a smug Medi-witch came striding out of Snape's cubicle. Harry had chortled to Remus that it was too bad Madame Pomfrey had left the Potions Master 'in a bind'.

He smiled briefly at the memory and, fixing his eyes on a flock of crows overhead, he wondered if perhaps the meeting was to go over his OWL's. He'd been expecting them all summer, but they'd never arrived that he knew of. That they were late caused him no small anxiety, and he worried about how badly he must have scored. He shied away from the memories of what had been happening at the time of the tests, instead thinking more positively that Dumbledore would not throw him away even if his scores proved he was not fit enough to do much of anything. Surely he would allow him to finish school. Although, he supposed he could stay on as a caretaker like Filch or Hagrid. He decided he wouldn't mind staying at Hogwarts as long as he didn't have to go back to the Dursleys.

He briefly wondered if the Dursleys had hidden any mail from him that first week, but wasn't sure because when he'd asked McGonagall shortly before being discharged about his scores, she'd told him 'they were on the way'. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was 'off' because McGonagall wouldn't look at him while they talked, her whole manner telling him she wanted to be well away.

Maybe they'd all seen his scores and, knowing his future was grim, were trying to spare him their pity or worse, their laughter. Yes, he supposed low scores would explain why he'd received no letter from Hogwarts either, no listing of his school supplies, although Snape _had_ promised a revised class schedule. But there had been no further summons from Snape and the promised revisions had not materialised although it had not surprised him too much--Snape had not been officially discharged yet from the Infirmary. Or maybe they were all so busy trying to help Snape, they had no time for the only student in the school. He remembered how they had all eagerly gathered around the Potions Master when he'd returned that day last summer at Grimmauld Place. Perhaps they were doing so even now. 

In fact he'd been alone the last three days. He hadn't seen Remus or anyone else since he'd been released from Madame Pomfrey's care. Maybe they'd just forgotten him. His meals had been served by unfamiliar, surprisingly silent house-elves, his things washed and cleaned on schedule. It was as if he were all alone in the castle. And he'd found out his first day back that he was effectively locked in the Gryffindor House. The door to the corridor would not respond to his touch, although he had been free for the first time to wander the entirety of the rooms, including the girl's side. He'd concluded that their facilities were the same as the boy's except their bathroom was bigger and had more privacy for bathing. He'd run out of it, blushing, from the catcalls of their mirrors.

He'd tried to break the monotony by writing letters to his friends, but had received no reply, not that he really expected any. When he thought about it, he realised that until the little owl had shown up a while ago, he'd received nothing from anyone since the day before his birthday.

The lack of a birthday had hurt--he supposed his friends, if he could call them that, had either got tired of him or just forgot. There's been no Owls at midnight to interrupt his preparation of the Mandrake roots for Snape. No Owls loitering when he'd been dismissed in the early hours of the morning. After waking near noon, he'd waited, by himself, in the Gryffindor common room for Owls that never came. He'd eaten dinner in the Great Hall--Snape and Dumbledore were the only ones present and other than the usual nod from the Headmaster and a tired glare from the Potions Master, no words were spoken. The meal itself was ordinary. By sunset, he'd felt much the same as he had when he'd turned eleven laying on the floor of the cottage in the middle of the sea. Isolated, alone, and desolate. The whole situation was hopeless.

A truer thought struck him as his eyes slowly closed, his body relaxing. Maybe they were going to train him just enough to fight Voldemort and then set him adrift. After all, what use could he possibly be? He'd probably failed the OWL's, but they still needed him--the prophecy wouldn't go away just because he couldn't fulfill it. Maybe he should just spare everyone the trouble of worrying about who was going to win--only one of them could, and the other Wizard was so strong, so powerful--

"Harry?" A hand settled gently on his shoulder, then gripped hard. "Harry?!"

Harry was barely aware of it, his thoughts spiralling ever inward.

****

In later years, after he defeated Voldemort, Remus would tell Harry he'd never been more scared in his entire life than when they'd rushed into the dorm room and found Harry in a slumped daze, his lax body about to topple out of the window. He and Dumbledore had left the Infirmary to investigate when Snape, coming out of a drugged sleep, had raged at them in near panic to go 'find the boy'. Remus had dragged a limp Harry out of the window and onto the floor while Dumbledore muttered a series of spells. With an inarticulate cry, Harry had gone rigid and then fallen back his eyes wide and afraid. An _Obliviate_ later, he loosened. It was now early evening and with an _Ever Dream Spell_, Harry was fast asleep.

"Well, I'll be damned, Snape was right. He _was_ in trouble," Remus remarked quietly, sitting on the bed next to Harry, the youth curled into his side. "What the hell happened, Albus?"

Dumbledore shook his head, his face taut with worry. "A most insidious under-handed attack, to borrow a pet word from our esteemed Potions Master. And a bit more subtle than I usually associate with Riddle--I suspect Lucius had something to do with it." He reached across Remus and ran his hand over Harry's head. "I regret we had to isolate Harry as much as we did this summer, but with the circumstances surrounding those arrested at the Battle for the Ministry of Magic and Fudge's subsequent inaction, it was for his protection. Unfortunately, it was essential he not know the danger; making him miss his birthday was especially hard for him, but Molly assures me she will make sure he gets all his presents on the train."

Remus shifted Harry closer, his hand rubbing the boy's back in slow circles. "I wish I had known--you made me his guardian, I should have stayed. There were any number of others who could have done my tasks this summer."

Dumbledore looked out the window for a moment, lost in thought. Nodding as if he'd come to a decision, he turned sympathetic eyes to Remus and said gently, "I made you his guardian for a variety of reasons, the foremost being that Harry trusts and cares for you. And I know you care for him beyond your close ties with his parents. I was, and still am, certain you would protect him with your life if need be." Remus nodded and Dumbledore continued, "However, I also chose you to serve until I could make the others sure of Severus' motives towards him. They have never been what they appear on the surface."

Remus was a bit shocked and more than a little curious. "Explain yourself," he snapped brusquely.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah. Now that's not so easy. I suppose the simplest explanation is our Severus has developed an 'affinity', if you will, with Harry because of the Occlumency lessons they've shared." He looked like he was going to add more, but stopped himself. When Remus was about to push, he fixed Remus with a well-known steely gaze; Remus knew better than to argue. He shrugged and watched Dumbledore relax a bit.

"While you and the others arranged for Harry's departure from the Dursleys, Severus and I stayed behind and made contingency plans to protect him here. Petunia grudgingly allowed that Harry would be welcome back next year and so the old wards will protect him another year, but not as much had he stayed there for the entire summer. The plan for the interim was Severus', if needed, and unfortunately it was. While he was subdued when you first brought him here, Harry was a bundle of anger after he arrived and the situation soon got out of hand."

He walked over to the window and Remus had to strain to hear him murmur, "It's so quiet in the dungeons." He pulled the window shut and locked it.

Returning, he conjured a squashy chair near Remus and sat in it, his lined face tired. "Severus' plan was fairly simple--keep Harry calm and busy--only then could he provide Harry a modicum of protection from Voldemort's inevitable invasions; Harry was not ready to do so on his own. Severus worked him hard and gave him no time to brood on it--and no time to see what was going on here with the Order in case Severus was unsuccessful and Voldemort got through. Severus felt, and rightly so, that Harry carried enough guilt without adding an unwitting betrayal of the Order to his 'rather extensive list', as he put it."

His eyes unfocused as if seeing something far away. "There were many reasons I made you _both_ his guardians and only one reason I sent you away. Harry needed to stay close to Severus."

Shaking his head, Dumbledore continued, "We'd thought the plan successful. Voldemort repeatedly tried to enter Harry's dreams, but Severus was able to block him as if it were Harry doing it."

Remus' voice was shaky. "Snape dream-linked with Harry?"

"Yes, he did--at my request--it was the only way." When Remus nodded his understanding, Dumbledore continued, "Severus is not a 'registered' Legilimens, but he is as strong as Riddle and, fortunately for us and him, a stronger Occlumens. He tried to shield Harry, but obviously Voldemort got enough of a look to know he was no longer at the Dursleys and, more importantly, with whom Harry was spending most of his time." Albus lowered his voice. "We think that when Severus did not inform his 'master' of Harry's whereabouts, Voldemort got suspicious and Severus was called."

They both thought about the more subtle injuries the Potions Master had suffered beneath his robes and shuddered.

"Voldemort obviously thought him gone, but did not know Harry could heal him. I wasn't completely sure myself, I thought Harry might be able to--someday," he chuckled, something indefinable flickering across his face. "While Severus thought he'd fended Voldemort off from Harry this last week, it is obvious he was not totally successful." He paused and Remus knew he was thinking of the incoherent jumble of sorrow Harry had let loose when they'd pulled him from the window before Dumbledore had spelled him asleep. Remus tightened his hold on Harry, glad they'd made it in time; the alternative was unthinkable.

Remus' thoughts were so far away he startled when Dumbledore started speaking again. "With the attack on St. Mungos the other day, there wasn't much choice--I'd thought him safe here; Severus knew better, but Poppy is very efficient and he was not conscious long enough to tell us any different." 

Dumbledore got up and started pacing at the end of the bed. "What disturbs me more is I am coming to believe the whole attack was a lure so Voldemort could work on Harry undisturbed. I fear our Harry is in for a rough time this year. We will need to arrange his schedule so he is rarely alone."

He continued moving around the room, clearly agitated, something Remus had only seen when members of the Order went missing. In a rare burst of temper, Albus stopped and hit the bedpost with his fist, shaking the frame. "Damn Fudge! He just let them go--two days before Severus was 'disciplined'. 'Improper Evidence' Fudge said when I confronted him on it this morning. Lucius, Avery--all of them--pardoned from Azkaban. What WAS he thinking of?"

"'Given the number of brain cells he had to begin with and considering his most recent thoughts destroyed the remaining two, it remains doubtful he was thinking of much at all.'" Remus quoted, mimicking Snape's baritone and inflections.

Dumbledore stared and then laughed. "Yes, Severus has a unique way of describing the--intelligence--of our Minister of Magic, doesn't he?"

Remus tilted his head to look down at Harry. "Severus really does care about Harry, doesn't he?"

Nodding, Albus put his finger to his lips. "Shh--don't tell him that, though--he'd have your guts for garters for even suggesting it. And then where would I be?" With a wink, Dumbledore settled back in his chair.


	14. Part II A New Trust

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Fourteen : A New Trust**

**22 August 1996**

"Come in, Harry--have a seat." Harry stepped through the opening cautiously, Dumbledore closing the door behind him. While the summons had not been entirely unexpected, the location and the waiting occupants sitting around a huge table near the fireplace was. Each of the ten places had a filled water glass; seven of the eight individuals already present had piles of parchment in front of them. The two empty places, one directly across from a very pale Snape, the other right next to him, had only parchment and pen available. When Harry saw an uncomfortable looking Firenze standing at the table between the diminutive Charms' Professor and Hagrid, the mystery of 'why the first floor staff room' was solved. 

Since Dumbledore did not indicate which seat he should take, Harry hesitated only a second before taking the seat farthest away from Snape and between Professors Sprout and McGonagall. As soon as he took his place, he realised his possible mistake when he was treated to the full sardonic stare of the Potions Master across the table, although the wink thrown at Harry by Madame Pomfrey, as she slid her eyes to look at Snape sitting next to her, made it more bearable. He looked around the circle of familiar faces, schooling his expression to that of polite interest, but was not quite able to suppress the nervousness he felt. The tension in the room made Harry want to be elsewhere.

While he was not quite sure why the meeting was necessary, he suspected it must have something to do with what had happened the week before in the infirmary. Or perhaps it was because he had received no letter from the Headmaster yet as to his classes and supplies. He'd been expecting it almost two weeks before, but when he asked shortly before being discharged from the infirmary, McGonagall had only told him 'it's on the way'. Odd, that.

Dumbledore took the last place next to Snape and cleared his throat. "Harry, I am sure you are curious as to why you are here and I am sorry for the delay in getting your paperwork to you, but it has taken us," his eyes swept around the table, "a while to create a potential class schedule for your Sixth Year especially in light of the," he cleared his throat again, "unusual circumstances of last week." He waited for the nods and murmured comments around the table to die down before continuing. "In one of our last conversations, you indicated you were interested in Auror training as a possible career path. Is this still the case?"

Harry hesitated--he didn't even know his OWL scores yet--but made a leap of faith that the Headmaster would not ask if his scores would not allow it. The alternative was just too embarrassing to contemplate. "Yes, sir. It seems a likely course."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully while McGonagall plucked a piece of parchment off of the pile in front of her and handed it to Harry. He glanced at the heading and down the page--it was his O.W.L. scores. He lifted his head and caught Snape staring at him. The unexpected glint of--respect?--in Snape's eyes made him go back quickly to the document to see what they were. After skimming the rather flowery heading, he read the following:

_**Charms:**_  
_Written: Exceeds expectations_  
_Practical: Outstanding_  
_Overall: Outstanding_  
_Student may progress to NEWT level courses_

_**Transfigurations:**_  
_Written: Exceeds expectations_  
_Practical: Exceeds expectations_  
_Overall: Exceeds expectations_  
_Student may progress to NEWT level courses_

_**Herbology:**_  
_Written: Exceeds expectations_  
_Practical: Exceeds expectations_  
_Overall: Exceeds expectations_  
_Student may progress to NEWT level courses_

_**Defense Against the Dark Arts:**_  
_Written: Outstanding_  
_Practical: Outstanding; Double marks_  
_Overall: Outstanding with Commendation_  
_Student should be encouraged to advance to NEWT level courses_

_**Potions:**_  
_Written: Exceeds expectations_  
_Practical: Outstanding_  
_Overall: Outstanding_  
_Student may progress to NEWT level courses_

_**Care of Magical Creatures:**_  
_Written: Outstanding_  
_Practical: Outstanding_  
_Overall: Outstanding_  
_Student may progress to NEWT level courses_

_**Divination:**_  
_Written: Adequate_  
_Practical: Dreadful_  
_Overall: Dreadful_  
_Student is discouraged from taking any further courses in this subject_

_**Astronomy:**_  
_Written: Exceeds expectations_  
_Practical: Incomplete_  
_Overall: No grade_  
_Due to unusual circumstances, student may progress to NEWT level courses if deemed acceptable to staff_

_**History:**_  
_Written: Incomplete_  
_Practical: None_  
_Overall: Dreadful_  
_Student is discouraged from taking any further courses in this subject_

Harry was stunned. He didn't know what surprised him the most, that he'd made the required "O" to take Potions or that he'd made high enough to continue Transfigurations. He considered himself weak in both courses of study. These scores would definitely allow him to take the Auror prerequisites. He looked up from the parchment to the now smiling ring of faces and without deviation sought the face of the Potion Master. Snape was the only one not smiling, his austere face stern and reproving as if Harry's score was a personal insult. Harry wondered if he'd imagined the first response.

His Head of House was the first to break the silence. "Well done, Harry. While it is obvious you have not had enough time to truly take in the scope of your scores, the Headmaster asked all of us here to consider your potential curriculum."

McGonagall settled into her lecture mode and Harry was heartened by the slight roll of eyes Madame Pomfrey tried to hide and the slight sniff he heard coming from Snape's direction--evidently he was not the only one who found McGonagall's style slightly pompous. However, as had been drilled into him for the last five years, he listened, paying her close attention.

"Normally when the OWL scores are published a separate letter is attached giving you the possible areas of study based on the scores as well as the curriculum required for each. From there one of two decisions can be made. If you are undecided as to a single future career, you can take a general course of study fitting one of several choices. Or, if you have decided what you want to do, and are sure, then you are usually invited take the required courses with additional study on the side with each of the respective professors for a better mastery of a subject, thereby giving one, generally, higher NEWT scores."

She shifted in the chair and took a sip of the water; clearly it was a delaying tactic as her eyes locked briefly with the Headmaster's. "Given the nature and spread of your scores, there are very few careers closed to you. Having said that, in light of your voiced desire to be an Auror and your apparent 'fate'," she grimaced in distaste, "and the, ah, events of last week, we would ask you to consider the latter option--an 'alternate' course of study partially outside the traditional one. Of course, the end result would be the same, you would be qualifying for the Auror's training, but you would also be preparing for your other role in the defeat of 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'."

Harry's confusion must have shown, because Snape spoke up, cutting to the chase as usual. "Minerva, in all the years I've known you, I still cannot fathom how you can take something so simple and confound it into a meaningless jumble," he said with asperity. "Have you not heard of the term 'succinct'?"

"It's a gift, Severus, called 'thoroughness'. And 'succinct' is not a word many of us would choose to describe your peculiar brand of verbosity," she chortled and Harry was shocked to see a small smile light Snape's face.

"It's fairly simple, Mr. Potter," he began, his cold voice devoid of its usual sarcasm. "Your OWL's are sufficient for you to pursue the courses necessary to become an Auror, although I admit to a bit of shock over your Potions score. However, given your propensity for getting into trouble and in light of your apparent _Sanos_ and _Schema_-reading skills, we are recommending that additional study be pursued to further these--talents--in addition to or in lieu of the standard courses of study."

Harry considered his words a moment, wondering what he hadn't voiced, and asked, "What is the normal course of study as opposed to what you are recommending?" He was rather proud he'd kept his voice even and steady despite his lingering uncertainty.

Lupin spoke up next. "I can answer the first question. Traditionally, for the Auror positions, you would be required to take post-OWL Charms, Potions, Transfigurations, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and one other optional course. In your case either continuing Herbology or starting Arithmancy or perhaps Astronomy." He took a sip of water and raised a brow while staring meaningfully at the Headmaster. Harry wished he knew what _that_ meant.

"As to the second question, that is a bit more complicated, Harry," Dumbledore said, his face quite serious. "I think it would be best if each Professor were to tell you how they would see you taking their classes under the new format. Remus, if you will begin?"

Lupin, in the middle of another sip, swallowed hastily and smiled encouragingly at Harry. "If you haven't already guessed, I am returning this year to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts." 

Harry grinned, relieved--Lupin was a fun teacher. 

"However, I do not think you have a place in my class." He waved his hand in negation as the smile left Harry's face. "The curriculum would move entirely too slowly for someone of your talents; much of what I will be teaching you already know. And as you are aware, speed--and time--are of the essence these days."

He passed a piece of parchment to Harry, who set it in front of him, but did not look at it, his eyes fixed on the werewolf. "I would propose we continue your training two-fold. The first being private classes involving both theory and practical applications; Professors Snape and Dumbledore would assist as required. And second, by reviving Dumbledore's Army on Wednesday evenings with the other students you started training last year. You would continue in much the same manner as before although you'll not be hiding as you did last year." His eyes told Harry how proud he was of that feat.

Harry's head turned to look at Dumbledore at the last bit and he was heartened to see the small smile and twinkle as he nodded. Looking back at Lupin, he said, "All right. Is there more?"

If Remus was surprised at the question, he didn't show it. "Yes, there is one more item, but it will have to wait until you hear from all your teachers."

At Harry's surprised nod, Flitwick took his turn. He sent an unfathomable look the Headmaster's way as he stated, "Your time for Charms would best be spent in class, with your peers in a regular classroom setting." He then mumbled, "There must be _some_ semblance of normalcy for you." 

Before Harry could reply, Professor Sprout said cryptically, "The same is true for my class as well. You would take the advanced Herbology course along with the extra work the Headmaster assigns you."

"Extra work?" Harry asked, looking curiously at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked uncomfortable. "All in good time, Harry." He looked across the table. "Minerva?"

McGonagall hesitated and then forged ahead. "I, too, believe you would benefit from time spent in a regular classroom. However, as with the others, there would be other requirements as we will explain in a few moments."

If Harry expected the Potions Master to speak up next, he was surprised when Firenze said, "I will be staying this year to teach the longer view of what you humans call Astrology. It has been suggested you would benefit from this study and despite, from what I am told, your dismal score in Divination," he smiled strangely, "I have agreed to accept you into my class, once a week, if you so desire."

Harry was speechless. He liked the crusty yet gentle Centaur and was honoured to be included. While he wanted to make a comment, he held himself back and limited his reply to a respectful nod and was pleased with the slow smile he received in return.

His attention was turned with Hagrid's words. "Ye would not be studyin' with me this year, Harry, but one of the extra assignments the Headmaster wants ye ta have would be under my care--among others." At Harry's incredulous look, he muttered, "Can't rightly say more than that, now, can I?"

Dumbledore shook his head and laughed. "No, my friend, you cannot." He sighed. "Severus, I believe it is your time to explain."

Snape grimaced with lingering discomfort and leaning forward, folded his hands on top of the papers in front of him. "It all seems to come back to me, doesn't it, Albus?" He turned dark thoughtful eyes to Harry and regarded him long enough to make Harry want to squirm, which Harry was sure was Snape's objective. With apparent grudging respect at his lack of reaction, Snape said, "Well, Mr. Potter, let's start with the simple part. Against my better judgement, I will accept your participation in my advanced Potions class despite your "E" in the written portion of the OWL's. Normally, I do not accept any student with less than "O's" in all aspects, but I will bow to the Headmaster's wisdom in this." He briefly turned a jaundiced eye to Dumbledore.

"However, if you choose what has been outlined to this point, there is still the matter of the 'extra assignments' to discuss." Harry felt the challenge of the steely gaze he was pinned under and repressed the urge to interrupt the Potions Master. He gave him no satisfaction and remained silent, but he countered with a lift of his head and a steady look telling him to do his worst, knowing Snape could read him if he kept up the eye contact.

Snape snorted and mused, "Perhaps your time this summer was not entirely wasted after all." Shaking his head, he went on, "To task. Last week you exhibited an unusual affinity for reading the _Schema_ of the wards in my lab and office, _and_ in the spells I had the misfortune of bearing with me to the Infirmary." He dared Harry and the others with his eyes to comment. When there was no reaction, he continued. "The Headmaster has 'requested' that I instruct you further in this subject as he and I are the only two present considered 'masters' of the art as a whole."

He turned his eyes to each of his colleagues in turn. "Each of your Professors are well versed in the _Schema_ of their particular field of study. To that end, for every Incantation, Transfiguration, technique, flora, or fauna you study or paper you write on any respective study, you will be also required to include additional study into the _Schema_ of the item in a form you will be given for each subject. This additional work will be graded (and corrected as need be) by both the respective Professors for accuracy and myself for integration into a three hour class you and I will engage in separately once a week on Thursday evenings."

Harry felt his heart drop into his shoes. While he knew Dumbledore had ordered the Potions Master to teach him, he'd no idea it would require this much time. Snape gave him no chance to respond. "Regardless of your choice, you will, again at the Headmaster's request, continue our 'other' lessons interrupted last term. We can accomplish this on Monday evenings after dinner. I am sure your anticipated performance in Potions will give me ample opportunity to explain away the need for extra tutoring sessions to cover for our 'other' lessons. It is already well established that once a student begins my advanced study, I will not tolerate failure."

At McGonagall's gasp at his implied insult, Snape levelled her with one of his best glares, obviously ignoring the sharp intake of breath from the student next to her. 

Harry felt his cheeks redden--not in embarrassment (as he was sure the others assumed it was) but from pure rage. Snape's knowing eyes turned to Harry once more, and he cut Harry's stinging retort by saying with some irony, "And should my assumption, through some miracle, prove to be inaccurate, then I am quite sure your other Professors will assist in finding ways to free up your Monday evenings. The 'how' does not matter as much as the need for discretion and misdirection--a fact I am sure everyone at this table understands all too well." Snape pinned each teacher with a glare, almost daring them to disagree; only McGonagall held his gaze for long before she too looked away.

Harry still seethed inside, but since the others seemed to know something he did not, he bit his tongue. As it was he almost missed Snape's next words.

"Then there is the matter of the three _Sanos_ spells you successfully completed. This one more area the Headmaster wishes you to study regardless of your choice of venue. And again, it seems I am the only one with the wherewithal to teach you. Looking at your busy social calendar, it appears you are unavailable for the remainder of the weeknights if you expect to have any study time for the remainder of your classes, and I assure you, the normal work will be required for all classes in addition to what I speak of here, so I would suggest this class take place for two to three hours every Sunday, alternating every other one with Madame Pomfrey to learn basic anatomy and physiology, whereas I will endeavor to teach you the--control--necessary to perform the _Sanos_ spells if for no other reason than to keep you from turning yourself into a living vegetable."

Harry could tell from the way he held his face so unnaturally still and the brief glint in his eyes that something amused the Potions Master greatly as he asked blandly, "Do you have any questions?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I think I have it. If I understand, the recommendation is regular advanced classes in Charms, Transfigurations, Herbology, Potions, and Divination, with private classes in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the--irregular--study on Mondays evenings at the Headmaster's discretion, Dumbledore's Army on Wednesday nights, _Schema_ study on Thursdays, and _Sanos_ study on the weekend with both you and Madame Pomfrey." He deadpanned, "And while it was never mentioned, sleep appears to be an elective." He stared at Snape unable to stop the ghost of a smile when he heard McGonagall softly snicker next to him.

He was rewarded by the Potions Master's lifted brows and twisted smirk. "It is heartening to know you sometimes pay attention, Potter. Yes, that is an accurate description of what would be required of you if you choose the 'alternate' course of study."

Harry thought a moment on how best to phrase his next question. He didn't want to look like a complete dunderhead. "To what standard will the extra courses be graded?" Harry asked finally, curious.

It had not been his intent to challenge Snape, but from the heated reply, he could see it had been taken that way. "I beg your pardon. What did you just say?" he asked his eyes narrowing. He grimaced in apparent discomfort and visibly relaxed his shoulders which had begun to hunch up.

Harry didn't back down. "Charms, Transfigurations, and the rest all have established criteria for taking the NEWT's. How will you be structuring and grading my other classes? By a set standard or on your whim?"

Dumbledore forestalled another heated reply from Snape with a hand on his arm as he said, "I know what you're asking, Harry. For obvious reasons, there is no NEWT standard for the extra courses of study; however, each one has set requirements. Your performance will be graded according to those standards. They will be noted in your record and will be assessed per the requirements of your new field. The _Schema_ and _Sanos_ are not required for the Auror's post-Hogwarts training, but their inclusion will certainly not hamper your performance or entrance into the Auror program, all other things being equal."

Harry nodded, satisfied with the answer; he would not be at Snape's mercy for the grading then. He looked around the table at the professors, oddly at ease with them and their encouraging expressions. Except Snape. He couldn't help but feel he was missing something--something they were not going to tell him unless he asked. He suddenly knew this was a test. He thought about it a few moments and then it came to him. "You said there was a format I needed to use for the _Schema_ lessons. What is it?"

Snape passed to him another parchment, his eyes shadowed, but pleased. It was empty except for a single line at the top with a long Latin phrase in Snape's handwriting; he'd obviously made an effort to be neat. "For each item you study, you will prepare a sheet like this. At the top is the name of the _Schema_. Below it, you will write the name of the object or spell and if possible, draw a picture of the item. From there you are to write all possible information you can find out about it, using the back and extra pages as needed. There will be one _Schema_ per sheet or sheets. Beyond that, how you arrange the information is your own affair as long as it is accurate. Personal comments and journal-like recollections are also encouraged as they often aid recall."

"If I may ask, sir, why this format?" Harry could see he might have hundreds of pages of notes at this rate.

Snape stared at Lupin who replied quietly, "Harry, there are no official written records or texts of the _Schema_ used for anything. Anyone who studies the subject learns orally from a master and creates their own reference manuscripts on the subject for their own future use, usually in their own discipline. Some are quite paranoid, with reason, about keeping the knowledge secret." He flicked a quick glance at the Potions Master. "Each of us has our own references we created in the same manner. And no, we don't share."

With a sideways look at the werewolf as if making sure he was finished, Flitwick spoke next. "Once your assignments are accepted as accurate, you will be free to 'hide' your own, even from your instructors. This way you can start your own text of the subject, organized in a manner best used by you." He laughed nervously, but his eyes were serious. "There is a courtesy, a deep trust involved with the creation of a personal _Schema_ text. Although in the beginning it is 'requested' you let us know should you add more to them once completed, it is not required. The passing on of new _Schema_ or new knowledge is purely voluntary once a page is 'closed'." He also glanced at Snape's stoic face as if surprised at his silence.

To Harry's eyes, McGonagall waited impatiently until the diminutive Professor was finished. She fixed her gaze on Dumbledore and Snape; when both nodded in what Harry took to be some sort of approval, she picked up the instruction, turning slightly to look at Harry. "This course is treated the same as an apprenticeship; the rules of confidentiality are in full effect during this study and beyond. The 'master', in name only, will be Professor Snape. We are granting him the same privilege and an equal trust to keep secure the knowledge we will pass on to you." She chuckled. "Although I have no doubt his own _Schema_ texts will thicken over time as your study progresses."

Lips pursed in what could only be consternation at McGonagall's comment, Snape was the last to speak. He fixed Harry with his eyes narrowed and Harry did not need to hear the spell to know he was reading his intent; he kept himself as open as possible. Snape nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw and said, "Under normal circumstance one would not be permitted to pursue studies of this magnitude until after one's NEWT's are completed and passed with honours. However, in your case and the escalating 'situation' in which we find ourselves, where the exception is the rule, expediency once again slips prudence into the shadows. It will be my duty to see that you integrate what you learn from your Professors into a cohesive whole. There are other matters you and I will need to discuss with the Headmaster, but not until after you have accepted or rejected this proposal. Have you any other pertinent questions?"

Harry felt all eyes on him and shook his head. "Do I need to give you my answer right away?"

Dumbledore put his hand on Snape's arm as he snorted and answered, "Not at this exact moment, Harry, but soon. We still need to get you to Diagon Alley to purchase school supplies and there is only a week to do so. Will two or three days be sufficient?"

"I was thinking more on giving you my answer tomorrow, but thank you for the extra time." Harry smiled at them all in turn. "I have no more questions. If that will be all, sir?"

Dumbledore looked around the table and seeing nods all around, said mildly, "No, Harry. I think that covers it. You can come to me or any of the Professors should you have any additional questions."

With that, Harry was gone as quickly as decorum would allow.


	15. Part II A Strange Year

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Fifteen : A Strange Year**

**9 June 1997**

"Potter! You couldn't hex your way out of a crib."

This was the last day of the Dumbledore's Army sessions for the year and the students were doing exhibition duelling. Harry and Draco had been going at it for some small time, neither of them gaining the advantage. Snape knew from his stance that Harry was being careful to keep them equal. Snape frowned to himself, that was about the only thing Harry had been able to control over the course of the year--he could at least be motivated by concern for other people if not for himself.

As closely as he was watching, he almost missed it when it happened. Harry's eyes narrowed in rage as Draco taunted him across the duelling line, his comments getting personal about Harry's parentage--or lack thereof. It was obvious Harry wanted to wipe the smirk off of the git's face when suddenly, as if someone had slipped a mask over his face, the anger morphed into complete triumph and his eyes dulled while his scar blazed red. The next hex coming out of his wand was not tempered and Draco went sailing through the air, bowling over the crowd beyond. 

Snape reacted instantly with an inner curse and a surge of adrenaline as he watched 'Harry' dissolve the protective ward and move menacingly forward. Stepping in front of the Headmaster, wand out, Snape called, "Oh, dear gods. Albus! Move out of the way!"

He raised his wand after making sure Dumbledore was covered and yelled, "_Stupefy_!" Damn. Damn. Damn. He'd not thought to 'watch' Harry while in a protective ward.

The powerful spell hit the young man square in the chest, but it only slowed him down as he stalked across the room. Watching him carefully, Snape was only peripherally aware of McGonagall and Lupin pulling the younger students back to safety to give him a clearer field. He sincerely hoped the Headmaster was with them, but knew beyond a doubt he was not.

"Harry! Fight him--use your training--"

In a hissing voice reminiscent of Parseltongue, Voldemort, through Harry, interrupted him. "So sorry, Severus--Harry's a little busy right now--nice to see you again. Seems I forgot to give you a going away present--_Crucio_!"

Snape had already been moving when the spell caught him in the side. Arching away from the agony, a moment later saw him almost dizzy with the sudden release of pain as Dumbledore's wand swept through the stream, effectively breaking the curse.

"Thank you, Albus," he gasped as the two men split, forcing Harry/Voldemort to choose only one of them. Of course, Dumbledore was the preferred target.

Snape started moving along to Harry's back while Dumbledore and Harry exchanged a furious volley of hexes and spells, each weaving and dodging each other. "Severus, hurry--" Remus? He didn't have time to figure it out.

The moment he was out of Harry's sight, he shouted, "_Legilimens_--" Attacked on two fronts as he was, Harry screamed. Severus could 'hear' Harry fighting off Voldemort's control; he'd almost done it too, he was pleased to note, but had not been fast enough. Pushing his own doubts and fears sternly to the side, he found it was harder to break this hold Voldemort had on Harry than it had been in the past year; the Dark Lord had never gained such full control before because Severus had never let him. Vulnerable himself, he was unaware of his surroundings as he tried to help Harry wrestle control from Voldemort.

He dimly heard a shout--but was too far away to engage, someone else would have to take care of it. "Watch out, Professor!" He felt the curse travel up his legs, the pain beyond imagining, but he refused to let go--to do so, he feared, was to lose Harry forever. He heard another yell, female he thought--"_Expelliarmus_". The pain magically disappeared and he found himself staggering under at least eleven stone of boy sagging against him, sans wand, unconscious. It was all he could do to stay upright.

Panting, he lowered Harry to the ground and looked around the crowd. When he spotted her holding up two wands, he almost smiled as he said, "Twenty points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for quick thinking." Looking back at the boy, he noted the Headmaster was kneeling beside him as well, his hands on Harry's head. "How is he, Albus?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "No physical injuries to speak of although I had to scorch him a bit at the end. Merlin, he's strong, but to answer your other question, 'he's' gone. Not a trace. And I'm afraid Mr. Potter here will have a headache worth remembering." He stood with some difficulty and looked around at the few people remaining. "Ahh, Madame Pomfrey. Not a moment too soon. Seems we have a guest for you." Dumbledore retrieved Harry's wand from Hermione and accompanied the Medi-witch as she floated Harry out of the Room of Requirement to the infirmary.

Snape watched them go, a sinking feeling in his gut. He'd failed him and now Harry had one more burden to bear.

+ + + +

Harry's thoughts lifted through a haze; he really didn't want to be here, but the quiet voices floating over his head wouldn't let him sleep. He concentrated and opened his eyes. It was dark, but not so dark he couldn't see he was alone in the cubicle. The voices must be outside then.

"Severus, when are you going to get it through that thick Slytherin skull of yours that you cannot be everything and everywhere for that boy?" Ah, that would be Remus.

"If you would use that questionable Gryffindor head of yours, you would find I don't do either," Snape shot back.

"Oh right. Then why are you so upset over what happened this evening? Hmm?"

"Lupin, it was my duty to teach him how to repulse the Dark Lord, not invite him in. I have obviously failed in that regard as much as Potter has. And tonight we saw the results of that failure--there is nothing personal involved in this as you so wrongly suggest."

"Ah, I understand, you were tired of the décor and that's why you imploded the offensive chair and shattered three of the windows after the students left. Had nothing to do with frustration, eh?"

The silence was heavy as was the sigh following it. "He's my charge, Remus, and I failed him, just as I failed the Headmaster. Harry's no more in control now than he was in the beginning. While I admit he was fighting him when I was finally able to interfere, it still wasn't enough. And Dumbledore almost got killed with my ineptitude."

"Not quite--didn't know you had such a flair for melodrama. That's not how I saw it," Remus quietly said, "I saw a young man concentrating on one frontal attack while a second one was made from the inside. Dumbledore appeared able to hold him off fairly well even if he was fighting the combined power of Harry and Voldemort, although I admit I don't think he would have lasted much longer had he been there by himself. But between you both, you were able to chase the bastard off. Seems to me that if it took the combined might of two of the strongest mature Wizards in the school to banish him, then Harry might not be blamed, nor you, for being unable to hold him off completely by himself."

Severus sounded thoughtful as he replied, "Hmph. You have a point. Perhaps we have all approached this from the wrong side. I must think on this."

Remus chuckled. "You do that, Severus. And in the meantime, give yourself a break, too. We all know how much you hate to have people see your human side, but you've done well by the boy this year, despite appearances. I know the others don't know the half of it, but I do, and you have my continued support if you need it."

"Um, well, thank you, Remus, I think." Snape's hesitancy disappeared in his next words. "Now that we've determined he'll live, I suggest we let him get on with it. After you?"

Harry heard them both leave, greatly disturbed by what he'd heard. He'd tried to kill Dumbledore? Voldemort took him over? Oh gods, why couldn't he remember?

+ + + +

In the Owlery, Harry sat in the corner on the stone steps away from the window, Hedwig calmly perched at eye-level to him. He knew he didn't have long before someone came looking for him, but he also knew that the lock he'd put on the door when he came up was identical to the one he'd removed. It would be a small while before anyone came up here by process of elimination.

He tried to fathom what had happened. "I just don't get it, girl. One minute I was duelling with that git, Malfoy, the next I was in a bed in the Infirmary." He stroked her chest with the back of his fingers while he remembered the words Snape and Remus had exchanged outside his cubicle. "If what I heard was right, I tried to kill Dumbledore." He'd waited until Madame Pomfrey had checked on him before he'd dragged himself out of the bed and made his slow way here. His head hurt.

"Seems people are afraid of me, too. Some even moved to the other side of the corridor when I passed them. It was like fourth year all over again. People stopped and stared at me in pity or worse--I know they were talking about me. I wish I could remember what I did." Hedwig hooted softly and rubbed her head on his hand.

He supposed he shouldn't be all that surprised. Over the past year, he'd not seen all that many people outside of class, just Ron and Hermione and even then he didn't spend as much time with them as he used to. Hermione was taking an extra class load in Potions, Charms, and Transfigurations in addition to her normal obsession with her regular classes. Ron was dedicated to the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Keeper and Captain and was surreptitiously preoccupied with Hermione. These things coupled with their duties as Prefects had ensured they had their own distractions. No one really knew him all that much anymore.

"You know Hedwig, this year has been really strange. I feel I'm often wandering through my life wondering what I'm supposed to do next. I can't seem to--connect--to anything I've done. I mean, my regular classes haven't been too much bother. But the extra ones have changed how I see things so much I get confused. It's all turned 'round now. Sometimes I feel closer to the teachers than I do to my friends--and I can't help but feel that's wrong somehow."

He stared at Hedwig, admiring as he always did her fine plumage and golden eyes. He sometimes wished all he had to do was deliver letters and eat owl treats. "But that's not my lot, is it? Sometimes I think I'm two people. There's Harry the student, just like any other. I go to classes, joke with my friends, eat with them, study with them, and like to prank the Slytherins whenever we can get away with it." He laughed. "Which is pretty often at that. Only Flitwick and Snape gave me detentions this year--McGonagall and the others never did--even when I was awful." He looked out the window. 

"Of course, that's because of Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived, who's being trained for a destiny he doesn't want." He snorted. "He's given after-school privileges like the Prefects, even when he doesn't earn them. Except by Snape--he treats me the same regardless and, in a way, it's a relief because I never have to remember which Harry I'm supposed to be around him." He put his head on his drawn-up knees.

"I'm not as smart as Hermione. And everyone has all these--expectations." He pitched his voice like Flitwick's, "No, no, no, Mr. Potter--it's suh-FISHY-oh," followed by McGonagall's clipped tones, "'Mr. Potter, you've let the House down,'" ending with a nasal baritone, "'Pay attention, Potter!'" I mean, look at Ron. Prefect, Quidditch Captain, Keeper. He barely squeaks by on his studies and I don't see anyone telling him he's not 'trying hard enough'."

Hedwig fluttered her wings at him, tilting her head after she'd settled down. "Me? I don't get to do anything other than study and fight and--I'm so tired, Hedwig. Tired of everyone wanting something--not from me, but from the other bloke--you know, The Saviour Of The Wizarding World. Hah! Who's that? Not me, I'm thinking. I don't know who he is anymore. He doesn't live in my skin. He lives in Snape's and Dumbledore's and Voldemort's and anyone else who seems to think he has something to give them. Me? He doesn't have anything left for me."

Suddenly decisive, he continued, "If given my druthers, I would prefer to be the student Harry. But I'm not, am I?" And this, he decided, as much as his inability to see things normally anymore, was at the crux of his problems.

He'd first realised he would never be the same again, that something fundamental had changed, during the Quidditch match against the Slytherins, the second of the season. He'd been flying low when he spotted it, high above him. He'd climbed, Draco hot on his twigs and as he neared it, he'd almost lost the Snitch when he suddenly 'saw' the _Schema_ of it. He realised that it was almost a sentient object and automatically began cataloguing it in his mind. At the last moment, suddenly aware of where he was, he'd desperately made a profoundly stupid move on a broom moving far too fast and snatched the Snitch a split second before Draco's hand closed over it. A few heartbeats later came the spectacular crash--the end buried in the ground before the shaft snapped in half throwing him end over end still clutching the remainder of his beloved Firebolt in one hand, the Snitch in the other.

After two days in the infirmary with Madame Pomfrey giving him a right twisting in one ear and Snape's silence ringing in the other, he quit the Quidditch team realising he no longer had the time, the concentration, and if truth be told, the inclination anymore. Ginny took over as Seeker and did a fine job of it--he was relieved on that score; the loss would have been unbearable if he'd left his team in the lurch. McGonagall was less than pleased, and for a few days had lectured him about his 'failed duty to his House'.

He still loved to fly, though. "I have to tell a staff member where I'm going, but that's not so bad. You know what's funny, though? When I land in the Quidditch Pitch, Snape is always there in the stands, usually with a book, to accompany me back to the school. He never talks to me, but I don't know--it's almost like First Year when he kept me up on my broom during the game and after this summer--I think the Headmaster makes him do it. I can't see him volunteering for the duty." Hedwig nipped his fingers. He had a sudden insight--maybe that's what Remus was talking about when he'd said Snape did more than he should.

"Seems I spend a lot of time with him. I mean, I never really thought about it, but I have him for four classes not to mention the time he spends when I'm with the others learning their _Schema_. I guess we've reached a truce--I show up, he teaches me. If I listen and learn, he's actually all right. If I don't he's a right bastard. And I have to say the classes have had gone better than I'd hoped--except the _Occlumency_. I don't think I'll ever get it _that_ right."

The time spent in his studies, the exhaustion at the end of each day, the continuing nightmares and dreams, and the growing isolation from his peers all served to feed his ever-present ire as he railed against what he had to do. The rage burned slow beneath the surface only erupting in his _Occlumency_ sessions with Snape and the occasional snipe at his friends. Otherwise he kept it under control.

He snorted. "Snape keeps telling me it's not the kind of control he's looking for. He's right, too, damn him. My control is a 'charade', as he says--three words from him is all it takes to make me lose it. I really hate him, you know. He stands there, all superior, telling me the only way I can master my temper is to either 'channel it and use it, or discard it as the unnecessary baggage it is'--whatever the bloody hell that means. But he never tries to find out why I'm like this, no one does. It's like they already know the reasons--I wish someone would let me in on it, too." Hedwig flew up to her perch and scolded him.

Harry had been aware that Voldemort was still after him. His dreams never stopped and he was only moderately successful in pushing the images away, although he was not necessarily encouraged to do so when he was passively observing without Voldemort's awareness of his presence. With Snape no longer a spy, sometimes Harry's dreams were the only thing that kept the Order informed of Voldemort's intentions and plans.

And this made him mad too. "Why do I have to be the one to watch? Why do I have to go through the pain when Voldemort tortures someone or makes another attack? It's so unfair," he sobbed to his owl, his head falling back to his knees. "Right now all I want is a bit of fair."

Hedwig, as usual, had no more answers than he did.

+ + + +

And so Harry survived his Sixth Year. After leaving the Owlery, he went back to the infirmary. Other than giving him a potion for the headache and checking him over, Madame Pomfrey never said a word about his absence although he could tell from her eyes that she was deeply worried. She allowed Ron and Hermione in to help him revise for their last test of the year, Charms, and when she found them all asleep on and around Harry's bed, she moved two of them to nearby beds and summoned soft blankets to keep them warm.

Harry was mystified as to why Voldemort had never tried to actively manipulate him until that last week and spent time dissecting the incident with Ron and Hermione after the exam, but none of them came to any obvious conclusions although the time spent did much to restrengthen their relationship. Thanks to the timely _Obliviate_ by the Headmaster, Harry didn't remember the dark incident over the summer and such was the skill of the Potions Master that Harry never felt his presence whenever he'd severed the Dark Lord's incursions in the previous months. Years later, Severus told Harry what he'd had to do, not to receive gratitude, but to almost beg forgiveness for his own loathsome invasions.

While he didn't finish in the top 5 the way he'd started, he held his own and made respectable grades--good enough for him to continue his particular course load the next year. Hermione, disappointed in his performance despite her efforts, had hinted he might not have tried hard enough. She was treated to a full blast of his temper. If only she knew, but Harry could not tell her and the frustration in that, his anger at himself for once again losing control, and his undying gratitude for the help she'd given him made his almost instant apologies all that more sincere. By the time the train pulled out of Hogwarts, they were still friends. 

Ron wisely remained silent. He had been worried about Harry all year and although he had expressed some of it to Hermione, he kept most of it to himself. He knew how little sleep Harry had, how much Harry had studied into the wee hours of the morning under the cover of his bed, and all the times he had snuck out after curfew and never served detentions for it. No, Ron had known something was 'up', but if Harry wasn't talking about it, neither would he--even to Harry.

After a week at the Dursleys to fulfil the requirements of the wards, the summer between sixth and seventh years was spent in the Order's headquarters, still in Grimmauld Place. Despite his age, Harry found himself drawn more and more into the Order, even though he was still not officially a member. He missed Sirius but found his memories fading with time to a deep regret; he stopped blaming Snape and eventually held himself fully responsible for Sirius' death, despite what Dumbledore told him. And he cherished his friends all the more the few times they were allowed to visit; he took the time to rebuild his friendship with them and it was almost enough.

Although Harry liked spending time with the eccentrics staying there better than he liked being cooped up at the school, he hated the place, especially the picture of Sirius' mother. A couple of weeks before his 17th birthday, Harry'd had enough of the painting.

+ + + +

**15 July 1997**

Remus Lupin shook the rain off his cloak before hanging it on the hook by the front door to let it drip in peace without him. He briefly thought about using a drying spell on it, but it had been a full moon last night and he was too tired to do more than hang it up. He shuffled into the back kitchen, wincing at the screaming portrait of his former best friend's mother, a flap of torn white fabric in her grip. He might miss Sirius, but he didn't miss the bitch who whelped him.

If he was surprised to see Snape sitting at the table, obviously waiting for him, he was good enough not to show it. There was a goblet on the table in front of him, the contents steaming with a warming spell. That it was for him did surprise him, and he was too weary to hide it. "Drink this," Snape said, pushing the goblet in his direction.

"What for?" he asked reasonably.

"Just do it--there's not much time left. You're late," Snape replied impatiently.

Remus shot his wand out of his robes saying, "_Aperio_". When nothing happened, he picked up the goblet and downed the contents. He flopped into the nearest chair.

Snape laughed, a full rich sound in the room. He shook his head, "Good, at least you've not burned-out your brain entirely."

Remus chuckled ruefully and then sat up suddenly. "Tell me what you feel," Severus adjured him.

"Strange--" He stopped with an odd look. "I feel a strong surge of heat flooding me--hold on, it's gone, now." Energy left his body in sharp crackling arcs dancing from his arms and hands.

Snape watched him closely. When he saw the energy flares, he commented more to himself, "I may have made it too strong. Maybe less mint?"

Remus stared at him. "What was that?" he asked incredulous.

"A little restorative I've been working on. How do you feel, now?" he asked, ever the curious scientist.

"Good, I feel good. I'm not tired anymore. A blessing, I assure you."

"You will have to let me know when it wears off and how you feel afterwards. It's just a first run and needs some adjustment, but I think it is, on the whole, a credible formula, if only to keep you from dragging your sorry arse in here after the full moon."

"I love you too, Severus," he said on a laugh. Remus became aware of the portrait's continuing harangue and realised it had not shut up since his arrival. "What's with the bitch? A bit unusual that. Usually she shuts up sooner."

Snape shook his head. "Not recently. For some reason she's actually been able to grab objects. Yesterday she caught Potter by the shirt when he passed too close. We finally had to tear his shirt to get him away. Albus says she's still benign, if noisy, but I'm not convinced--there's a decided malevolence in it."

They both jumped from their chairs at the sound of yelling from the front hallway and arrived in time to see Harry raise his wand, crying "_Desinum_!" at the portrait of Sirius' mother.

"NO, HARRY!" Severus roared as he moved to push Harry out of the backlash sure to follow. With a flying tackle, he knocked him to the floor, both landing heavily as they fetched up against the front door, sliding too fast across the huge puddle of water left by Remus' cloak. It saved their lives.

A gigantic gush of green flames the same color as an Unforgivable Curse shot out of the portrait in a wide arc, missing their feet by inches. Had they not slid, it would have caught them in the conflagration consuming the portrait of Sirius' mother and the wall in front of it. She was screaming in anguish, her face crackling as the magic burned the painting into ashes.

"Good gods," Snape muttered, rolling off of Harry, who was half sitting against the door in a daze. "What the hell was that?"

The question was echoed by the other occupants of the house reacting to the explosion felt all the way up into the attic.

"Oh, look. Harry killed Sirius' mother," Tonks said as she tripped down the stairs.

Moody walked up to the remains of the portrait, still burping small gouts of flame. "Aye. Certainly dead." He turned his head to look at the pair by the door. "Good job, you two. About time someone shut the auld bitch up."

Snape held up his hands, "Not me, Moody." He hooked his thumb back, "Him, all him." He looked over at Harry and asked, "Stop? A bit primitive, don't you think?" he asked drolly.

Before Harry could reply heatedly, Moody interrupted, asking, "Stop? Whatever are you blathering about, Severus?"

"_Desinum_--the spell he used. 'Stop,'" he chortled.

"I think I sense a wee bit of intent in this," Moody laughed and winked at Harry with his good eye. "Wanted his shirt back, he did."

Remus joined them, still not giving Harry a chance to reply, hoping he would take the hint to just laugh it off. "Damn, I wish I'd known it would be that simple. I'd've _Desinum_'d the bitch a long time ago."

As more laughter and comments joined the group standing around admiring his handiwork, Remus could see Harry's angry embarrassment dissolve. Harry started to chuckle; apparently it was the cue Snape had been waiting for and he said, "Yes, you have something to add?"

Harry almost choked and Remus noted the mischievous look in Severus' eyes as Harry said, "Let me see, I believe we were at 19/19 odds even. I'd say this keeps us even up."

"And how do you figure that?" Snape drawled.

"Well, one for you for saving my life." At Snape's smug nod he continued, "And one for me for saving you the effort of bitching about her anymore."

Moody recovered first, saying, "I'd say, then, that evens you up with just about everyone else if we don't have to listen to the auld sod carry on about her anymore."

Remus was not surprised Snape was the first to get the dig but was when Snape was the first to join Moody in light chuckles, falling against the door trying to get his breath. "Odds-even it is then," he remarked dryly, the subject now closed as everyone stared in shock that Snape, given his voluble penchant for 'keeping track', would release anyone, let alone 'Potter', out of his debt.


	16. Part II The Long List

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Sixteen : The Long List**

**7 August 1997**

Severus told Harry years later that after Harry had killed Sirius' mother, Dumbledore decided he needed a new direction to his studies. While the Headmaster was ostensibly pleased with Harry's burgeoning abilities, he was privately appalled by his increasing lack of control. Albus had hoped Harry would grow out of his impetuosity but was concerned about his apparent lack of progress. Finally hearing what Snape had been trying to tell him for years, Dumbledore had paid the Potions Master an unexpected visit one evening in his quarters shortly before the beginning of the school year.

Snape limited himself to raised eyebrows when he greeted the Headmaster at the door; he could count on one hand the number of times Dumbledore had been down to his private quarters uninvited. While the old man settled into one of the wingback chairs by the fireplace, Severus warmed them each a brandy. Snape offered him a snifter, which he took with relief.

Dumbledore shifted in the chair. Had he been a student, Severus would say he was squirming. _'And if he's restless, then he must be after something he knows I will be reluctant to give him, or--'_

The Headmaster cleared his throat. "We need to talk about Harry."

_'--or wants to talk about something unpleasant he wants me to do.'_ Snape raised a brow, chuckling. "Why am I not surprised?"

Hedging his reply by swirling the brandy in the tulip-shaped glass, Albus finally sighed. "Don't make this harder than it is, Severus. Just bask in the resultant 'I-told-you-so' and let's move on."

Snape chortled, his eyes wicked. "Oh? And what of your many words about Mr. Potter are YOU going to be eating this time?"

Eyeing the Headmaster over the glass, Snape could tell the admission was going to be painful from the way he refused to meet his eyes, staring into the fire instead. He muttered, "The ones I uttered when I said that young Harry is only going through a phase like any other teenager and will grow out of it over time."

The Potions Master was enjoying Albus' discomfiture and after all the frustration of the years of warnings with little heed from his Headmaster, he couldn't resist protracting the agony. "Ah, I see. And would that be for the times when I complained about his inability to follow simple directions, or for the several occasions when I told you he was a danger to himself and every one around him, or was it the numerous incidents when I warned you he was losing control?" The smugness radiated off of him like the heat from the small fire.

Albus gave him a grim smile, his eyes catching Snape's with glinting intent as he replied, "Enjoy your victory while you can, Severus, for in a few minutes it's going to be your problem as well. However, to answer your question, for all of them but mainly for the latter."

Snape grunted. "Hmph. He always winds up being 'my problem', Albus, so don't think your words are striking terror into my heart." He took a sip of the brandy, its warmth banishing the cold spot the Headmaster's words made despite his brave words to the contrary. He took a deep breath, willing the nerves away as he said nonchalantly, "So you now admit he's completely out of control?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, not completely--not yet, but I think he could be. This last episode at Grimmauld Place, while impressive, has been an even sharper warning that, although Harry has gained tremendous knowledge and power, he is sorely lacking in the ability to make responsible decisions concerning its use. I'd hoped he would grow out of it normally like any other young person, however--"

Snape snorted and caustically observed, "There had never been anything remotely 'normal' about the boy, so why did you think it was ever going to change?"

Eyes tired, Dumbledore said, "Everyone grows up, Severus."

His mien thoughtful, Snape said quietly, "If they are allowed to, they do."

Dumbledore threw him a sharp glance. "What do you mean by that?"

Severus shook his head at the apparent obtuseness. "Have you not noticed that few deny him anything? No one treats him the same as his peers, so why should we expect him to be the same? Minerva coddles the boy. You give him almost anything he wants like _he's_ an only child. And me? I'm vilified when I try to treat him just like any other spoiled brat." He switched to a whiny nasal voice. "Poor Harry, 'The Nasty Old Greasy Git' is picking on him again; let's give him a sweet." Snorting his disgust at the whole thing, he exclaimed, "Bah!" His irritation was further fuelled when he saw Albus hide a small smile with his brandy.

"Jealous, Severus?"

Snape snorted, his face haughty. "Hardly," he spat, "I earned my stripes, thank you very much. I have always prided myself on rational thought and action--even in risk taking because I learned from my youthful peccadillos, which if you'll recall, killed no one."

Albus frowned, his displeasure evident from the down-turned edges of his mouth to the tightening of his hands on the glass, the knuckles whitened. "Now you are too harsh and go too far, Severus."

"Harsh?" He thought over his last words and realised he'd not expressed his opinions properly. He waved his hand in denial. "Oh, bother. I am NOT speaking of the Diggory boy or any of the other casualties of this war. Harry had no more control over those incidents than he did of your subtler machinations like Invisibility Cloaks, Magic Mirrors, and Time Turners--to name a few." 

When he saw Dumbledore relax a bit, a small smile gracing his face, he continued, "No, you know of whom I speak and you also know I am not speaking of just Harry's responsibilities. Surely you know he blames himself solely for that mangy mutt's death. What I don't understand is why you let that boy, excuse me--that young man continue to bear the whole burden. It does him no good whatsoever; it eats at his confidence and his thoughts like a canker. When are you going to start bearing your culpability, Albus?"

Dumbledore, incredulous, exclaimed, "But I have already told him he is not responsible for Sirius' death! In my talks with him, he accepted my part in it, although he was very upset with me at the time. No, I think you are mistaken about this, Severus."

Snape erupted. "Damn it, Albus! You're indulging in your blind spot again. Where do you think I spend most nights? Playing chess? Working on my research? No, I spend them in that boy's head. Don't you DARE tell me I'm wrong. I see it! I see his dreams, his fears! I feel it! In here," he pointed at his head. "He is NOT dealing with it, Albus--it peppers his nightmares and fuels an almost tangible anger that bleeds into every aspect of his waking life. He is not accepting your explanation. The only person he blames is himself--NOT St. Albus."

Albus sighed and looked into the small cheery fire muttering. "I should know better by now than to doubt you. I've held back reading him for a while in an effort to not interfere with your training. I see the courtesy was a mistake. Thank you, Severus. I will talk to him again."

Snape noticed the fire felt like it was giving off more heat than it should and muttered a dampening spell before replying, "As much as I would enjoy watching you wallow in your own errors a bit longer, if only for my own satisfaction, I have to say talking to him will do no good, Albus. He won't listen."

"Why not?" he asked, perplexed.

"Because he knows you're wrong and for once, he's right." Snape's heavy words hung in the air.

Dumbledore raised his brows. "That boy is not responsible for Sirius's death! I am."

Snape regarded the Headmaster with a look akin to pity. "Albus, that _young man_ is as responsible as any of us. Not you, not him, not even Bellatrix. All of us played a part. And we've given him no chance to come to terms with his earned guilt, no means to express it, and certainly no means to expiate his part in it. Instead everyone tells him he's not at fault, to just forget about it and move on. And then we wonder why he fails? Why he has no control? Why his magic gets wilder with each passing day? Why is he so angry? Why shouldn't he be? He's been lied to." He paused to take a long draught of the brandy; his throat felt raw.

He continued more quietly. "He needs someone to tell him the truth--you to tell him the truth. He'll listen to no one else. Yes, he was as responsible as any of us. Yes, he made some truly stupid choices, but made the best of them when they fell apart. He needs to know not everything happens according to a plan and that half of the battle is 'winging' your way out of it. Yes, people got hurt, yes, someone was killed, and yes, that's too damn bad, but it is a part of this life he's unfortunately been given. He also needs to see the good that came out of it as well--Fudge's acceptance of Voldemort's return, the tempering of his friends, the lessons he himself can learn from it."

Reigning in the shreds of his temper and before Dumbledore could interrupt him, he leaned forward and went on, "He just doesn't see it. Every contact with the Dark Lord to date has ended badly for him with someone hurt or worse, and whether he was at fault is immaterial. Most of us were fortunate that our same lessons, our same mistakes did not end with such dire consequences. Yes, we're sorry he was born at such an inopportune time. Too bad. He needs to see this clearly, Albus, so he can finally learn to look ahead at the consequences of his actions, learn that his choices can change lives, and that there is not a damn thing he can do about it. Maybe then he can finally bloody well grow up!" He threw up his hands, convinced he'd not made his point. "Bah! He needs a direction and a channel for his anger."

They sat for an interminable time, staring into the flames, each lost in their own thoughts. Albus startled Snape out of his reverie when he asked, "What's his progress?"

Tucking his ruminations into a corner of his mind, he concentrated on the question. Reluctantly he said, "His Occlumency meets an acceptable standard, but as you saw, it is by no means sufficient to thwart the Dark Lord."

"Have you told him he's progressing?" Albus queried, his eyes concerned.

Snape snapped, "Of course not. You feed his ego enough without my help. And until he learns some self-control, he will progress no further."

Albus chuckled. Snape could see the Headmaster had been expecting the answer and wondered when he'd become so predictable. Dumbledore asked, "And his _Sanos_ abilities?"

Snape admitted, "He has a strong natural talent for it and for reading the _Schema_; his progress there has been swift. Madame Pomfrey and I have been satisfied on both fronts. His only problems have been in Transfigurations, a specialty all its own." He chuckled. "I found it ironic that his difficulties with McGonagall's _Schema_ class gave us the excuse needed for the Monday Occlumency classes. However, even with the extra Friday course, he didn't progress far with her."

Dumbledore laughed. "He told Minerva that separating Transfiguration _Schema_ was like someone asking him to dissect in stages how he caught a Snitch in a full Wronsky dive when it was just something he did by instinct."

"I remember--actually it's not a bad analogy. As I'd never before observed Transfigurations _Schema_, I sat in on his sessions with her--it was fascinating." His voice was vibrant, excited. "He's not having difficulty doing the actual transformations, but his confusion is in halting the process at each 'step'. And with reason. McGonagall showed him that the first exercise everyone learns in her class, a match to a needle, actually encompasses over 10 separate transformations as it changes shape, materials, and function. And each step has it's own _Schema_--" he saw the wicked twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes "--and why am I telling you this? You could probably teach McGonagall."

"Always glad to see you so enthusiastic, Severus. This teaching Harry has been good for both of you if for no other reason than to see you come alive again." He smiled at Snape's glare. "Have you been having any difficulties securing the cooperation of the staff?"

Snape thought about it a moment and slowly drawled, "No, not much. Firenze says Harry will never make a Seer, but has a good grasp of the theory. Filius and Sprout, once they overcame their objections over the whole thing, have been most helpful. Hagrid has not been involved yet; we've not got that far."

He paused, debating how he should phrase the next bit. "Minerva has been a right pain in some respects. Oh, she's been patience itself when working with him on his classwork, but she completely alienated him over the Quidditch incident. After hearing about how she was haranguing him for quitting the team, a most sensible move in my opinion, I had a little chat with her on the subject."

Dumbledore chuckled wickedly. "Oh yes, I heard all about that. How you accosted her in her office, threatening her and the rest of the Gryffindors if she uttered one more word against your protégé. If it's any consolation, I told her to bugger off. I thought you had every right to be irritated."

Snape looked uncomfortable and resumed. "Remus has helped the most, not only in filling the holes in his studies, but in giving Harry some of the, ah, emotional support he seems to need and can't get from his friends." The 'or me' was heard even if not spoken.

"So you've finally figured out Harry is nothing like his father?" Dumbledore asked him in his gentlest voice.

Snape thought about it and wondered himself when it had happened. He neatly sidestepped an answer by remarking, "I have no doubt Harry would not have passed some of his course work, including Potions, without Granger's help."

Dumbledore's amused reaction to his evasion irritated Snape. "So you are satisfied with his progress?" the Headmaster asked after he drained the snifter.

Snape reached over and refilled the glass, answering, "For the _Schema_ and _Sanos_, yes." Placing the bottle on the table, he held up his hand to forestall Dumbledore's inevitable question. "And before you ask--yes, I have told him this. What I have not said is that he is almost beyond my ability to guide him, especially in the _Sanos_ spells. He actually works hard at the _Schema_, his 'text catalogue' is most impressive for the short amount of time he has been collecting for it. For some of his studies, I barely stay ahead of him and his grasp in some cases is faster than my own. I suspect he could be a _Schematamagus_ with proper training."

Dumbledore leaned forward in the chair, his interest sharpened. "Can you do it? Continue his training to that level?"

Severus sighed, annoyed with the question. "You know I cannot."

Albus nodded and looked thoughtful. After a few moments he murmured cryptically, "Well, I suppose it's too soon in any event." He paused and Snape got the impression from the gleam in his eyes that they were about to argue again. He'd not been wrong when Dumbledore said, "I want you to continue your _Occlumency_ with him and begin _Legilimency_--he must be able to both repel and follow Voldemort at will, not just passively observe."

Snape ground out one word. "No."

Disbelief coloured the Headmaster's words although his face remained passive. "I don't believe I heard you correctly."

"Oh you heard me all right, Albus," Snape chuckled grimly. "You just didn't want to hear it. So let me say it again, plainly. No, I will not teach him _Legilimency_. To ask me is beyond reason and not truly necessary. He follows quite well when he can be bothered with it. However, this is still unreal to him--even after Voldemort's invasion, which he still doesn't remember, he has no concept of what he is up against."

Dumbledore sighed, resigned as if he knew the Potions Master was serious and would not be bullied into this. "Very well, Severus. If you will not, then I will see to that aspect of his training myself."

Almost gently he replied, "No, Albus, to do so would be a Very Bad Idea--he is not ready to be taught _Legilimency_ and we are not ready to teach him. There is not a Pensieve large enough to hold all our memories from him and the idea of that BOY rooting around in our minds with as little control as he has right now is enough to make me shudder with dread."

Albus chuckled, his eyes peering keenly at Snape over the rims of his spectacles. "I thought you said he was a young man."

Snape's lips twisted into a parody of a smile. "It depends on what part of him you are referring to. His person and magic are that of an adult, his cognitive processes are slowly catching up, and the rest is that of a spoiled infant."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "Tell me, Severus. Will he ever master _Occlumency_ to the same degree you have?"

He considered it a moment, giving it the serious thought it deserved. "No, I don't think he will, but he might get close--he _is_ very strong. As it is, he is well beyond what most consider mastery, but for him it is a learned skill not a birth talent like ours and Riddle's. He is still bothered by the tandem dreams; his ability to break the contact is severely hampered by his remaining anger and I have had to sever them at times." Sighing, he saw the glint in Dumbledore's eyes; he knew he'd been had--drat the man. "No, as much as I am loath to admit defeat, it would be better to further his _Occlumency_ training and continue to teach him as much control as possible."

He let his next thoughts out in a rush. "However, this time, you MUST lift the restrictions on when I challenge him and how much I may harm him." At Dumbledore's alarmed expression, he laughed. "Oh, have no fear--I won't permanently damage your golden boy--he'll live at least long enough to finish this. And I'll be discreet as to when I test his abilities; however, he will not learn if the most that happens to him is he winds up on the floor of the dungeons. It will not be that simple when it comes to fighting the Dark Lord in person and you know it."

The Headmaster nodded. "A valid point--Voldemort will not stop once he gains an advantage. Very well, you may 'injure' him, but mind the damage. I am only agreeing to this as long as you are willing to teach him the more advanced defence techniques. It would be better if he can avoid getting hurt in the first place."

Suspicious, Snape asked, "What other voids do you want me to fill in Potter's training now, may I enquire?"

Without missing a beat, Dumbledore replied, "Magical weapons as well as shielding."

"I don't want to. Have Lupin do it." His voice was almost desperate in its petulance.

"And if I order you?" Albus asked and then levelled a steely gaze at him. "Come now, Severus. You never did whine well."

His rejoinder dripped with asperity. "Albus, unless it has escaped your notice, I have classes to teach, potions to brew. I cannot spend every _other_ waking moment with him."

Dumbledore harumphed. "You have something better to do with your 'free' time then?"

Cut to the quick, Snape growled, "That was below the belt, Albus. If you'll recall, it is not fully my fault I can't play spy for you anymore."

The Headmaster was calm but intent. "We both have our methods and I have no time to play polite. Do you want this war over or not?"

Sighing, Severus replied, "And regardless of your wishes, I still do not have enough time. I will need additional help."

Albus nodded, his eyes sympathetic as Snape once again conceded. "Very well, I will teach him the control he is so lacking in, you teach him the skills; Remus will help, I'm sure. Between us, I think we can temper him."

Snape looked hard into the fire as if his entire life was borne by the dancing flames. Without looking at the Headmaster, he said softly, "He will need to learn the Unforgiveables."

Dumbledore asked pragmatically, "Can he learn them? Some can't you know. If I recall, he had problems with them at the battle of the Ministry."

A wicked chuckle was his reply. "All one needs to succeed is a focus, anger or hate, and a target--preferably someone you would really like to hurt." He smiled grimly. "I think I can easily 'supply' all three for him if you'll lower the wards to allow him to do so."

"All I need to know is when and where. The rest is easily accomplished, but please don't get yourself killed in the process." He tilted his head at him considering. "And the defence shielding?"

Snape snorted, resigned. "You don't want much do you?"

"No, Severus--not much. Only the best for him. There is a reason I've denied you the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for so long." His brow wrinkled in thought and he continued slowly, "Some of this can be handled in the Dumbledore's Army lessons Harry teaches--" he smiled at the name "--with Lupin's continued guidance, of course." He tilted his head and regarded Snape over his spectacles. "Let's make a list of those things he still needs to learn and then decide how best to handle it."

"A very LONG list--it hardly seems fair." Snape hid his amusement and concentrated on giving Albus a harsh glare.

He relaxed his face, though, when Dumbledore's small laugh caught him out. "To whom? You? Or him? And since when did you ever really care about fairness?"

"Both of us, actually." He drew back and stood, his stance loose although he felt tightly coiled inside. With a lazy drawl he said, "And here I thought you knew me well. I am ever concerned about fairness and the rightness of things." He raised a brow, looking down at the Headmaster's upturned, amused face. "I just don't often get to practice it because life in general, our current circumstances, and you in particular, never are."

Albus bowed his head in acknowledgement, but not before Snape caught his smile of triumph. _Maybe I could train Potter how to wipe it off his face for me._ Severus went to his study, Albus following. After pulling parchment and quill from his drawer, they set about making the very long list.


	17. Part II What Dreams May Become

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Seventeen : What Dreams May Become**

**2 August 1998**

_"Mr. Potter. Harry. I know you're in there. Do you hear me? Listen to me."_

Visions swam in Harry's head while a familiar voice, low and sultry, wove in and out of flashes of moving pictures, bound by a type of music he knew he'd heard before, but for the life of him he couldn't place. He knew he should remember--it was vital somehow he recall what he was seeing, what the voice was showing him. Trying to focus, grab the fleeting images, there are so many, too many.

_"That's right. Remember who and what you are. Take my memories and use them for your own--for now. One at a time--there--you got one."_

He saw himself with a group of young people, wand out. There was an older woman and a wolf there as well standing with the students, wands out. To battle? No, his mind recalled they were there to protect. Just in case one went astray. He saw a tall man, casting a spell--a ward--separating them from the spectators. Another spell, surrounding him, surrounding the man--can see the glow of it. He was facing himself--he faced a thin man with ebon hair. He was confused. How could he see his opponent and himself at the same time? Who was this man and why was he fighting him? Why were all his friends just standing there watching?

_"You're so close, Harry. Don't let it slip away. Shift the perspective--take this memory to find your own. Heed me, Harry."_

The spells flew, he was hit with a curse; his shielding held and sent it back to his opponent. He was hit by his own curse and it bounced back at him--the perspective steadied and he was himself again, watching his curse come back at him from the shield of the man in black. They volleyed it back and forth until with a push of power he sent it back one last time. The man went sailing several feet to land on his bum, bouncing before coming to an ungraceful stop, legs akimbo like a scarecrow falling off the post in a strong wind. He felt rare laughter at the sight; he couldn't remember why it was so funny, why the man had a wry smile on his face. The applause from those around him faded until he was adrift in a sea of white and he recalled no more.

_"No, Harry, you cannot avoid it. You must remember. You were trained against the best to give no quarter, given the skill to vanquish your foes; defeat is not an option right now. You must hold onto yourself. Come back. Follow my voice."_

He was kneeling on the floor in a room made of stone, panting, his head a heavy burden on the end of his neck. It hurt. He dimly heard a voice, the same one talking to him now, only different, harsher. He struggled to his feet trying ignore the shouted, "Potter, damn you! Concentrate! This is no child's game we play--you did better than this last year. On your feet! Again! _Legilimens_," ignore how it hurt down to the soles of his leaden feet--he was so tired, all he wanted to do was sleep and here he was in his mind again. Feebly he pushed, the memories squeezed out of him. Mustn't _push_ let _NO!_ the _get out of my mind_ bastard _go away_ win _so there_! The man stumbled back against the wall, pushing on Harry again. Stalemate. Neither one gaining the advantage over the other. Holding on for what seemed like hours. The pressure gone. Sweat pouring off of them both. The warm feelings when the man said, "Well done."

_"I had no choice. You cannot die because of something as idiotic as distraction. Harry, hold on, don't lose me."_

Warm hands on his face. Stroking, pushing the hair off his forehead. A breath of air on his cheeks. A kiss?

_"Stay with me, Harry."_

+ + + +

He opened his eyes to darkness relieved only by a candle off to his side. Blinking the crustiness off of his lashes, he tried to speak but no sound came out. Pain, so much pain, in every limb. His head, barely attached, floating in its own bed of agony. He tried again, a raspy croak--"Where am I?"

Soft cool hands, a woman's, lifting his head and shoulders ever so gently. It still hurts. A soft voice, soothing and plush, like the pillows under his arms. "Hush, Harry. You're in the infirmary--you've given us quite a scare. Here, drink this--" A foul liquid at his mouth, bitter and acrid, his throat protesting, magic there making him swallow. "I know, it's awful, but it will help. There you go, all done." A rustle of cloth, something being shifted, his head eased into downy softness. "It will be better in a moment."

A small noise at his side. Sliding his eyes didn't hurt. He looked at the old man sitting next to him, white beard in his lap. "Who are you? How did I get here?"

Smooth like silk his voice, familiar like a lullaby. "You had an accident, Harry. There will be time to talk later. For now, just sleep"

The pain receded. The room darkened. His eyelids were so heavy. Someone was watching over him--he would figure it out later.

+ + + +

_"Harry--keep thinking of them. You must think of them. No time to lose. Pay attention."_

"If defeating the Dark Lord requires you, Potter, then by all the gods, you _will_ be prepared!"

An unfamiliar hex followed these words and he saw a wave of magic coming his way across the duelling field. The _Flamma Schema_. Latin. Used to cause flames or incendiary spells. Counter spell _Aqua_ or _Suffoco_. Contains a _Ferus Schema_. Latin. Used in Wild and untamed magic. Counterspell _Pax_ Together--hybrid wildfire--nasty--only have one shot at this. The spell almost on him, he shouted, "_Suffuco Pax_". Damn! Almost. A little scorch on his sleeve marked the remainder of the spell.

"Not bad, Potter, but as usual, you left it a bit too late and you entirely missed the _Impervius Schema_. You must be quicker. Try again. _Confuto Desirum_!"

_"That's good, Harry. Use your own memories. Remember who you are. Who you are with. What you can do. I have every confidence you will succeed. Watch and listen."_

Jumbles of memories. Moving faster than his inner eye can see. A silent sigh. They slow, like horses on a carousel--take hold of the reins to stop them moving.

Watching two men demonstrate swords and daggers. Remus? Snape? Were those their names? Going to Ollivander to get a staff--18" extending to five feet, Ipé with dragonheart string, strong and unbending. Sparring with staves, the magic crackling between his hands gripping it loosely, a sheen of sweat and concentration on Snape's face as sparks fly with each contact. Always losing to him. Delighting when Remus bested him.

A man with a white beard, the one he saw earlier, calmly throwing hexes to strengthen his shielding. Dumbledore? Yes, Dumbledore. Feeling sweat run down his face as he held the shield, while the old man made it look so easy.

Dumbledore in front of him, wand out--watch out for him, he's tricky. Sensing Snape behind him, not fast enough on the turn, hearing the dreaded _Legilimens_, falling to the floor, can't fight them both. Hearing the sneers from the Potions Master, "Mercy will get you killed someday, Potter. It's an emotion you can ill afford--"

Waking in the Infirmary, a woman stridently speaking to the two men, telling them "I'm tired of seeing this poor boy here. Surely there is another way to train him? Albus?" Listening to their firm replies telling her "he must be prepared." Prepared for what?

Sitting by a fire reading from a book, what was the name? "The Art of War" by Sun Something Chinese. Questioning Snape on it, learning the strategies alongside the red-headed man. Ron. His name is Ron and he understands the concepts better--Snape doesn't yell at him.

Ron is distant, he's either with the girl--Hermione--or with friends. It didn't use to be this way. Missing his friends--No time for friends--Too busy--Too dangerous--It's not safe to know me.

Me? Who am I? Why am I here? Why can't I move? Why am I so separate from myself? 

Panic. Must get out. Thrashing. 

A cool hand on his lying on a soft surface. Whispered words of encouragement. Who is talking to me? Who is touching me?

_"Calm, Harry--you must remain calm. You cannot heal if agitated. Find your center. Control it. Bury your fear, your anger. Wrap them in a ball and spell them away. Your emotions must be discarded for the Sanos to work. Please."_

Harry. I'm Harry. I remember.

+ + + +

Waking slowly, only half here, half there--hearing a muted conversation.

"How is he, Severus?" There was deep worry in the voice.

He saw the shrug through half-closed eyes. "As well as can be expected for someone thrown halfway across the room after being hit with a _Cruciatus_ while fully open in a _Legilimens_. His memories are slowly returning. I told you this was a mistake."

"Perhaps, but he must learn, Severus. You were right in this--nothing we can do to him will truly prepare him for what is coming. Mercy is not Voldemort's strong suit as you have good cause to know."

"True." A long silence. "And maybe--for the future--it had a purpose. If the combination of spells could do this much damage to someone as strong as Harry--"

A pause, the old man's eyes glazing, suddenly sharpening. "Ah, yes--I see where your thoughts go, my friend. A formidable weapon indeed--we must give this some careful thought after he awakens."

"Ever the optimist, Albus?" The feel of a warm dry hand on his arm, concern on a tired face. "He's so young--"

"No, Severus." A shake of the wise old head--in sorrow?. "Like you, Harry has an old soul."

+ + + +

_"Take the good with the bad, Harry. Make the most of it. Dig deep. That's it. Remember. Take them back into you, awaken them. You're almost there."_

Young. Too young? No, not too young. Not to care. He cared. He saw the Potions Master lying in the bed. Unconscious--had been for days. 

Practising the Unforgiveables with Snape. His spells were so weak. Hard to dredge up the hate. Snape baiting him, trying to goad a response. No success. Almost at the end of his patience for the evening. His scathing comment "I suggest you not come back, Mr. Potter, until you finally decide to get serious about this." Feeling the anger, white and hot. How dare he! How dare he presume to know his motives. No friends. No Hogsmeade. No time. No sleep. All work and study and spells and _Sanos_ and _Schema_ and exhaustion.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" He saw the mannequin detonate as the poison green spell hit it. He'd done it--he'd cast the curse! Delight turning to dismay. Oh no! Too close. Snape was too close. A black bird flying through the dungeon. Had he done that? Had his petty anger killed the only man he'd ever loved? Loved? Trusted. That's it. He trusted him. What had he done? Bending over him. A pulse, thready and weak, thank the gods. Don't leave. Please be all right. Hitting the panic spot on the mantel. Throwing his robes over the crumpled figure on the floor, a trickle of blood winding out from his head, flowing in the joints between the stones. Hurry. Hurry! Dumbledore and Pomfrey running into the room, the flight to the Infirmary.

So still. So still on the bed. Sitting for hours, holding the long elegant hands. Hands he's longed to caress him. No, he's a Professor. Wanting to touch his hair, his face. He would never be interested in a child. Giving into temptation--soft and fine, an odd texture, not unpleasant, not greasy. An idiotic spoiled child. Sallow skin like corn silk, dry and smooth and raspy like a man's. Yet--a trusted child. Made him play Hopscotch singing 'Oranges and Lemons' while learning _Imperius_. Made him sweat and scream with _Crucio_--gasping it was well done before passing out.

Tired. So tired. Always tired. Dozing at the leaving feast. Dumbledore'd made him come. Made him leave the infirmary. Muttered whispers among the students. 'Snape is missing. Where could the Greasy Git be? Good riddance--would have soured the food anyway.' Hearing Ron call after him, Hermione too. Wanting to know why he was leaving so soon, in such a hurry. Can't stay. Can't listen to it. Can't bear them maligning him. Wanting to shout--He's a good man--you don't deserve what he's done for you, for me. I think I killed him. No, can't have done that. But he's been so still.

Running to the bed, checking on him. No change. He's still away. Day following night following day. A slim hope. Black eyes staring, he tried to pull his hand away. Not this time. I'm sorry. So sorry. Didn't mean to hurt you. I won't be angry anymore. I know it can hurt. I learned it. I'll control it. Please don't leave me. Was it spoken? Did he hear? The eyes closed. No! Stay! They open and, oh, it's there. Absolution. In his gaze. Warm. In the squeeze of his hand. Firm and yet something else. Something hopeful. Staring at each other for eternity. Madame Pomfrey pulling him away. Sending him to his rooms, but it's all right now--he has given me mercy.

Warm hands stroking his arm. Soft words willing him to sleep. Fingers in his hair. Touching his cheek, his lips.

_*Silence* "I never knew. Sleep, Harry. Just sleep."_

+ + + +

"Can I have some water?" a young voice croaked, eyes closed.

A whisper of rich heavy robes. Water being poured in a glass. A firm hand raising his head, cold smooth wetness at his lips. Drinking, feeling it slide down parched tissues, being absorbed before it made it all the way down. Another sip. Heaven in something as simple as water.

Dumbledore's quiet soothing voice. "Feeling better, Harry?"

Mumbling sleepily. "I don't know. Been having dreams. Memories of things. Can't tell what's real. My head hurts."

"You took quite a knock to it, my boy. We'll talk more on it later. Right now you should sleep."

A cranky whine. "All I've done is sleep."

"Well, yes." A touch of irony. "Now you will do it some more until you are healed." A wand out. "_Sopophorus_" spoken in a whisper.

He slept.

+ + + +

_"Dumbledore says you woke. You need to sleep. You need to remember. Your connection to your memories was severed when you were hurt. Take mine to help make yours. Listen to them, Harry."_

Is that why he was having all the dreams? They were memories? So many. Swirling around in his head. Confused images. He remembered those he remembered.

_"Hush, Harry. I will help you sort them. For now just find them. They are all there. Bind them back into you."_

Being taken to the train by Lupin and the Order--be discreet--hugging the new Head Girl--sharing chocolate frogs with the new Head Boy... Struggling with classes... Turning in work late or in an illegible shaky script, sometimes writing in a half somnolent state--McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout looking the other way--he would pass even without distinction... Helping Remus demonstrate a technique to his Fifth Years... Watching Neville stun Snape and getting away with it... Hermione and Dean and Ron helping him in the library with his Potions homework--Neville helping with Herbology... Feeling Hermione's puzzled gaze on him--the hated feel of hiding from her, turning her away--finding small ways to make up for it... Late night sessions with Firenze in the open field by the lake--watching the movements of the heavens even if he knew not what he saw--feeling some satisfaction as Lavender and Parvati failed the class... Spending meals eating and revising for the NEWT's, studying whenever there was a chance to do so... Pranking Draco--Ron turning him into a human skunk--adding the scent--ewwww--getting detention from Flitwick for using a private spell--supposed to feel guilty, but didn't... Opening the special room with all the piles of _Schema_ forms, hundreds of them--working late into the night while everyone slept--the Potions Master covering him with a blanket when he dozed near dawn... Watching his friends go to Hogsmeade from the window of his room, Ron and Hermione holding hands, snogging when they thought no one was looking--Seeing the couples, knowing he could never really be part of one until the day one of 'them' died--Knowing that the one he wanted, he could never have--ever... Fighting off the dreams Voldemort still sent him... Rendezvousing with Justin in a deserted classroom, not a permanent thing, but relief all the same... Ignoring Malfoy in the halls--wanting to hex him for his comments to Hermione--heeding Snape's glares at him... Earning less than adequate grades on papers in Potions, hearing the sneers in class, silence outside... Gazing in awe as the dragon hatched--Hagrid's proud face--Snape's eager pen across the parchment--Learning its _Schema_, cataloguing it late into the night... Research in the library--Learning all the nerves in the body--His first controlled _Sanos_ spell on Moody... His 18th birthday--The party at Grimmauld Place--Tonks' wild hair--Remus revealed as his guardian as well as Snape--A rush of love for both men... The treacherous accident--Waking in the night screaming from a dream--Pushing Voldemort out... Stunning Dumbledore and Snape in one move--Learning the duelling ward... Sneaking through the hallways in his invisibility cloak... Holding the picture of his parents as he went to sleep... Studying by wand light in his bed... Snape's laughter in the dungeons... Dumbledore pranking his bed... McGonagall slipping a rock in his bag set to Transfigure into a frog while in Herbology... Remus visiting him in the infirmary... Remus in a stout cage in the dungeons letting them catalogue the _Schema_ of his horrible transformation on a full moon without the Wolfsbane--both of them comparing notes, making sure it's right--they would never ask again... Snape stirring a cauldron while reciting the _Schema_ of each ingredient as it was added--seeing and mapping the synergy for the first time--basking in the rare approval... Another 'wet' kiss from Cho in goodbye... A kiss on his cheek--A perfect kiss on his lips--Feeling safe while a low sultry voice in his head told him to remember.

He remembered it now. The ruthlessness of the Headmaster--Sparring--Warming up--Dumbledore casting the _Legilimens_--So strong--Struggling with the unexpected attack--Feeling his memories sucked from him--no time, no guard. He never guarded against Dumbledore for this. Why should he? Sneaky bugger. Pushing back made him vulnerable; he was so strong--Didn't register the nod from Dumbledore until afterwards--Not sensing the Potions Master until it was too late--"_Crucio_!"--Flying through the air, screaming in pain--Remembering no more as he hit the ground.

Sleeping dreams filled with the dulcet tones of the Potions Master--talking to him. Holding onto the voice like a lifeline. Low and silky, it kept him connected when his hazy mind wandered into places it did not want to go. Once, hearing the hoarse and harsh voice repelling Voldemort's attempts to enter his dreams. The worry-filled trip to the infirmary. The fear of losing him. Was this his memory? No, it was another's. Or was it his of another time? Dreaming of his touch.

_"That's it. Bring them forth. See them. Listen to them. Hear what they tell you. Make them yours again. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."_

+ + + +

Harry woke in the depth of the night, when dreams turn real, with the secure feeling of one long fingered hand sunk in his hair, the tips touching his scalp, the other, pale and elegant in the moonlight, holding his as it lay still on the covers. Moving his eyes, he saw an exhausted Snape slumped forward in a chair by the bed fast asleep, his head on his arm, the inky hair spilling softly across Harry's wrist. He wanted to touch the silky strands, but smiled in deep satisfaction as his lids closed without his volition and the vision sank back into the realm of his dreams.


	18. Part II Beginning The Beguine

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Eighteen : Beginning The Beguine**

**10 August 1999**

Harry crept through the corridors of the school in stockinged feet, the invisibility cloak wrapped securely around him, his boots in his hands. He cautiously peered around each corner before he passed and right before he was at the entrance to his private quarters, he saw Draco step out of the shadows of a column right in front of his door.

_'Shite! Now what do I do?'_ he thought as he watched the other man sniff the air as he always did when he'd been looking for his ex-lover at some rendezvous or another. Harry silently pulled back into the shadows, grateful he'd thought to remove the boots with their thick leather soles and steel capped tips when he'd left Severus' quarters. Ordinarily he didn't notice the noise they made on the stone flags, but tonight he suspected they could have been the death of him.

He watched Draco bounce on the balls of his feet, the jittery way he moved his hands and the way his eyes swept the corridor told Harry this was his former lover at his worst. He'd hated it when Draco got this way--demanding, punishing, irrational. In fact, when he got like this, Harry had often wondered if Draco was dabbling in substances similar to Dudley's little habits he'd observed the last time he'd been 'home'. He certainly had the same irritability, the same movements as his cousin and, given the vast number of questionable potions that could be made from almost ordinary ingredients, it wasn't too difficult to imagine.

He was about to make a dash for it, hoping he could get a quick spell off before Draco could react, when Draco lifted his head like a gopher out of a hole, alert and cautious. Harry strained and then he heard it too--soft footsteps coming slowly this way. While Harry ducked deeper in his niche, Draco took one cautious look down the hallway and, turning swiftly on his heels, pelted quietly down the side corridor. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and was about to come out of hiding when he saw Dumbledore come into view. He looked around him and a frown lit his face when he looked down the hallway Draco had gone. He shook his head and continued in the direction he had been going, away from Harry.

Harry eased out of his hiding place and as his hand was on his doorknob, he heard the chuckle floating down the corridor as Dumbledore called out, "Good night, Harry. Pleasant dreams." Harry chuffed and went into the safety of his apartments.

+ + + +

After taking a quick shower to wash off the stink of his earlier fear, Harry got ready for bed. It was one of those nights when his body demanded a sleep his mind denied and after thumping his pillow for the third time in as many minutes, he tried to order this thought knowing that until he got whatever was on his mind off of it, he would lie awake. So he let his mind wander where it willed and after a few moments was surprised it wasn't so much interested in what had happened this evening but rather on the things leading up to it. He shrugged into the pillows and let it have its way; although there were certain events he was not keen on remembering, he knew there was something in the back clamouring to get out and, recently, he was nothing if not patient.

+ + + +

He supposed it started out simply enough when he'd said goodbye to Ron and Hermione at the train. It had felt very strange to see them off knowing they were going away and he was the one staying. While they had not been as close as they had been during their years before, they were still his best friends and they all promised to see each other over the summer at Grimmauld Place.

Which is where he ultimately wound up. Still at Hogwarts when he received his NEWT letter, he was pleasantly surprised at his better-than-average scores. They were good enough to get him into Auror training, which was what he still wanted. The Ministry insisted he join some others at Hogwarts and learn the courses there under the tutelage of Moody and two new teachers, Professors Brice and Langer in September, which left him the whole summer open. 

In the first week of July he had moved to Sirius' house; he officially joined the Order of the Phoenix on his eighteenth birthday and with the others from the Order began making their final plans to defeat Voldemort. He and Snape were still at odds with each other most of the time, more so because he had taken to thinking the fragile rapport they'd built earlier was based on Snape's duty as guardian and not of mutual liking; it was a source of disappointment to him. He knew Dumbledore had apprised Snape of the problem (to his surprise) when the Headmaster insisted they start calling each other by their first names as they were to be working as equals. It had helped a little, although, over the ensuing months, it didn't stop Snape from pointing out to him, at every opportunity and in graphic detail, exactly what he thought of his risk-taking.

He supposed, looking back on it, that everyone else knew the constant sniping for what it was. But at the time, even though he knew he was drawn to the Potions Master, for whatever reasons, he could not become emotionally tangled with anyone until he knew the outcome of the Prophecy. So he'd kept his distance; it was a lonely habit by now, but it fit him comfortably most of the time and, he grinned as he thought it, (catching himself doing exactly that) it had made him good friends with his right hand.

No, the whole thing almost fell apart when he let Draco seduce him last Christmas. They'd both been at Hogwarts, the only two upper level students staying for the holidays, although now he couldn't remember why, and except for a few lower form students, they were pretty much on their own. Over the previous months, while they'd not exactly become friends per se, they had a mutual respect that was close enough and Draco had pursued him, sometimes quite openly. Draco had worked hard trying to convince him he was as lonely as Harry (which turned out to be a lie) until he'd reached the 'what the hell' point and capitulated. While Harry had gone into it thinking there was something to be said for mutual relief, that first time with Draco had quickly disabused him of that notion--it had been utterly amazing and Harry was hooked. 

He'd known the members of the Order were appalled; it didn't matter that Draco was in the same training as Harry, supposedly on the same side. And he guessed, in retrospect, that sleeping with the son of an inner circle Death Eater had probably not been one of his brightest ideas, so he didn't really blame them for their less than enthusiastic reactions. Except Snape. It always came back to him, as he'd once said. He was the only one seemingly not upset about the whole thing. When the issue came up about separating them, he was adamant they leave well enough alone; his reasoning, or so he'd heard, being that Harry was alone enough as it was. Eventually, Dumbledore came to see it this way too.

He found it embarrassing he never noticed the way Draco had manipulated him. It still made his cheeks burn to think of some of the things he let himself be talked into. But it wasn't love. Had never been love. And from the beginning, Harry had known it never would be--and why. He'd always had an impending sense of danger to anyone who was his friend, so while pleasant, he held everyone off emotionally, including Draco. Snape and Remus were still the closest thing he had to friends and by virtue of their positions as his teachers and mentors were the only people Draco could not cut out of Harry's life, although he tried hard enough to do so.

And the other reason was even deeper. For on those nights when he was alone, it was never Draco who fuelled his fantasies. It was Severus and had been ever since the night he'd almost killed the Potions Master with his first killing curse. Something profound had changed within him during those long hours he'd sat by the Potions Master's bed in the infirmary, something he'd found impossible to stop and as equally impossible to live with. He'd fallen in love with the man and, at the time, he'd thought that was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done, but there was no helping it. It was done and he was just going to have to live with the consequences. One such was the hope he'd felt after Snape mended his memories when he'd been hurt in the duelling exercise. He remembered the moonlit picture of the man as he slept and began to harbour fantasies of seeing him awaken with love in his eyes. For him. He was such a fool.

Afterwards, Harry began to catch Snape off-guard and to enjoy his quirky humour. Remus was right, Snape could take it as well as dish it out. Snape on the other hand, grudgingly acknowledged Harry's accomplishments and could be heard from time to time actually telling him he'd done a good job. Harry hugged those rare moments to himself. And he'd found Snape had been full of surprises, once they both started lowering their guards.

Before Draco entered his life, he'd been pleased with the increasing depth of his discussions with Severus and, given that they both found the use of their first names easier with time, he liked to think Snape enjoyed them as much as he although as Remus had said, one had to wade through a lot of shite to get to him. Harry started learning in bits the private part of him that was Severus, as opposed to Snape, his more public and vocal persona. When he compared the two, he concluded it had been Snape's quick, biting wit that had saved Severus' internal thoughtfulness. While it was sometimes strange to think of Snape as two very different people, he didn't dwell too much on it because he saw himself that way as well.

But that all changed with his affair with Draco. Snape was still Snape, but was more withdrawn, less open, more businesslike; it was as if he were observing Harry more than interacting with him and had withdrawn from him the Severus he'd come to know. Harry shrugged in the dark--and maybe he had been--his comments, as usual, were right on the mark.

So by the time they succeeded in defeating Voldemort and Harry had decided not to become an Auror, his and Snape's relationship had been complex to say the least. It was a bad period in his life; with Draco's increasingly aggressive behaviour and Severus' distance, he'd felt very alone. Their special classes ended as there was no longer any need to continue them since the job was done, although Harry continued Auror training until he could find a new profession. It left a big hole in his life, one he sensed now Snape had understood well but chose not to address.

Then there was the night Severus had confronted him on the Astronomy Tower when he'd told Draco of his decision to quit training. He'd been desolate, full of doubts, and so lonely the choice to fall off the edge had been closer than he'd let on. What had scared him most was how good he'd felt when Severus had held him; he'd been more than comforted--he'd felt at peace afterwards--a fairly new emotion for him. After they'd made their awkward good byes, he'd gone to his rooms and slept soundly for the first time in months.

The next day, when Snape had helped him with the career charts, he'd been almost overwhelmed with gratitude and no small amount of shame for how he'd regarded him all the previous years. Even though it was impossible to tell the man that he filled his fantasies, there was still the matter of how he'd treated Snape with such anger and disdain when he'd put more effort into it than Harry. He certainly hoped, albeit too late, that he'd got the apology and acknowledgement across to Severus.

And he began to see Draco in a new light. That Draco would stay and spy on him while he'd been with Snape had affected him deeply; what little trust he had for him evaporated with the argument they'd had after leaving Snape's lab. He'd tried to break off the erstwhile relationship at that time, but Draco had employed his usual wiles and within moments after the first kiss, he was hard-pressed to remember why he'd been angry with him in the first place.

During the weeks he'd been collecting his information, trying to decide what profession to choose, he'd spent more time with Snape, pestering him with questions about his different choices. Looking back on it, he shouldn't have been so surprised at how easy it had been. He was still in love with him and was thrilled with all the positive attention.

He'd also pursued advice from McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey as well. Professor McGonagall was surprisingly mild in her assessments to him. She'd studied the sheets Snape had given him and he'd later modified, her only comment being that logic was a fine thing but sometimes one had to go with their 'gut'. When Harry told him what she'd said, Snape had commented caustically that "Gryffindor guts are best used for sausage casings, whereas McGonagall's are fit only for garters." Harry had been more amused than insulted and almost agreed with him.

He smiled. Snape told him to make his own choices based on logic and his desires, which the Slytherin in him was only too pleased to do whereas McGonagall advised him to follow his instincts, which pleased the Gryffindor in him. However, it was his talk with Madame Pomfrey which, in the end, had cemented his choices.

****

**28 June 1999**

Madame Pomfrey's advise was unexpected.

"These are interesting, Harry. I see you've come up with quite a few choices; the ones you've kept are in the Healing Arts. Any particular reason for that?" she asked in her normal no-nonsense way.

Harry chuckled, "I think I've spent more time in here than in my classes."

She smiled, "Probably, but is that the reason you want to be here? Because it's familiar? Or has someone suggested it would be a good place for you?"

Harry cocked his head at her question. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean. Other than Professor Snape lending me the workbook, which you can see I didn't take at face value, no one has suggested anything. That's what's making this so hard. I'm not really sure what I want. The other was a joke."

"All right, let's start with what you don't want," she said, seeming to ignore his last comment. "You've crossed-out Potions, Auror, Unspeakable, Curse-Breaker, and Medi-Wizard. I'm curious. Why leave out the Medi-Wizard? It's a good profession."

Harry turned a becoming shade of red. "Uh, well, you see--"

She raised a brow, "It's all right, Harry. I am just curious--being a Medi-Wizard is not for everyone."

"Well, it looked--boring, actually." He squirmed.

She laughed throwing her head back, a full rich sound. Her eyes twinkling, she chortled, "With what you students bring in? Hardly, but I _do_ know what you mean. To someone of your abilities, the odd challenge brought in every now and again would not be sufficient to interest you. So tell me Harry, what on your list is enough to sate you but not enough to overwhelm?"

Harry, not knowing how to respond to her merriment, read through the remainder of the list. "Healer, Researcher, Ferreter, and Spell-breaker."

"What appeals to you most?"

He considered the list and his research. "The Ferreter sounded interesting, even if I still don't know what the devil it is; when I first saw it, I thought it might mean one looked for small mammals." She chuckled. "The researcher sounds interesting at first, but as I looked deeper it looks a right bore."

"Don't tell Snape you said that. He loves research."

Harry shrugged. "That may be, but he also makes things as well. Researchers don't really get to make things, not like that. The Spell-Breaker is exciting, maybe too exciting."

"So that leaves you with the Healer. What did you find out about it." She was watching him closely.

He shook his head, perplexed, "There's just so much--and so little. There must be dozens of branches but little written about them. I wouldn't know where to begin. It does appeal to me though. If I could just find out more about it, I think I would like doing it."

"It's done that way on purpose. You cannot take any of the Healer Courses without a recommendation and an apprenticeship. Tell me, is the boredom the only reason you want to take the career path?"

Harry looked off into the infirmary. Talking about what he wanted, what he felt, was not one of his strong points. "No, I just--" He turned and caught her eyes, holding them, "I have caused so much destruction. Yes, I know, the ends justified the means, but that does not mean the truth makes me feel any better about it. I threw out the others partially out of boredom but mainly because they left me cold. It's almost like they're not enough, strong enough, to balance out in a lifetime what I have managed to destroy in such a short amount of time. They're not _intense_ enough. Not in an exciting kind of way but in a reparation kind of way. Oh, I'm explaining this badly." He dropped his head.

Madame Pomfrey regarded the bent tussled head a moment and then with kind hands lifted his face to hers, saying gently, "I understand, you explained it just fine." She moved the hair out of his eyes, exposing the scar. "Which is why, if it's truly what you want, I am willing to sponsor you and give you _my_ recommendation to enter one of the Healing Arts. You may serve your apprenticeship here, at Hogwarts--unless of course, you've seen the inside too much already." Her eyes were dancing.

Harry was stunned.

He was glad she decided to rescue him. "So Harry, let's talk about the 'dozens of branches'--"

+ + + +

**10 August 1999** (Continued)

Harry wished the break-up had been just melodramatic. Unfortunately, it had almost proved fatal with Harry being the victim of one of Draco's increasingly more frequent rages; he'd raped Harry and left him to die. This morning Harry had gone to breakfast, preoccupied and hurt when Draco had come out of nowhere. One look at his eyes had told Harry he had no intention of letting him survive to rat on him. He didn't want to hurt Draco, but he was committed to not letting Draco hurt him again. He didn't know how far he would have gone had not Dumbledore intervened. _'And perhaps that was precisely why Dumbledore stopped the whole thing. Maybe I really would have killed him.'_ His reactions to the Unforgivables were usually swift and deadly--he'd certainly been trained that way.

After the meeting with the Headmaster and Snape he had gone straight back to his quarters and brooded all day until late afternoon, he couldn't take it anymore and crept out of his rooms in his invisibility cloak and made his way up to the Astronomy Tower. The rain had nourished his despondent mood and by the time Snape had found him, yet again, the only thing holding him up on the parapet had been his indecision. He began to wonder if the reason he put himself in so many dangerous situations was to make sure Severus was always there.

He savoured the time this evening with Severus in his quarters. The brandy, the way he'd held him through the shudders he was helpless to stop, _'I will NOT think of them now!'_ the feel of his hands making their own statement. The greenhouse and Horatio--both delightful surprises and a needed diversion from the restive recollections of what Draco had done. But more that anything there was that one instant, when their eyes locked, that one look, and a whole new world of meaning opened--so intense he could not stay for fear of where it would take him, not sure he was really ready for it now. The unbidden knowledge all kenned in that one moment. He's worried about me. He's cared for me. He's wanted me--for a long time.

_'Did he suffer when I was with Malfoy? Did he think of the two of us together? Think of the things we could be doing? Did it cause him pain? Did he ever guess how much it was lacking? Does Severus know how much Malfoy hates every syllable of his name?'_

He knew everyone had thought him crazy to stay with Malfoy and everyone assumed he'd been besotted with him. But there were other reasons he'd stayed as long as he had. Reasons he was ashamed of now, born of pure lust and blackened guilt. And Draco had known and played it for all it was worth. _'How long was it before Draco realized I didn't always 'see' him, was not always 'with' him?_ He wondered how much of Draco's anger was due to the hurt he'd caused him by these small betrayals and how much was due to his childish tantrums when Draco was not given the toy he wanted to break _'--me. And stupid fool that I was, I let him do just that last night.'_

He desperately turned his thoughts from the pictures in his head from the night before, concentrating instead on his own culpability in it. _'I forgot it in my fear. Forgot that as long as I saw Severus, wanted him, Draco could never hurt me, for I really cared not for him. I forgot that Draco's greatest weakness is he wants to be needed without giving anything of himself. I forgot that his greatest weapon is the two edged sword of guilt.'_

Giving up, he watched the stark terrifying images play over and over in his mind like a dervish top. _'I wish I could forget now.'_ And the night lay stretched out before him endless in its speculation.

+ + + +

Once he entered his apprenticeship with Madame Pomfrey and started remote classes at the Wizarding Branch of St. John's College at Oxford, life settled down into something of a routine. He regretted his lack of contact with the Potions Master, although he made it his business to visit him from time to time in his lab either to just talk or with the coming of school have him judge his Potions work for credit. The first time he did so, it changed his life forever.


	19. Part II On Hold

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

* Edited for FF.net, just a little.

A/N: Mea Culpa if this is racier than an "R" rating, but this is not a "fluff" chapter and there are some things happening essential to the rest of the book. I also apologise if it "feels" choppy, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing.

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Nineteen : On Hold**

**12 September 1999**

"Well, it appears you've completed the potion to an acceptable standard. The color's slightly off, but it will do what it's made to do, nonetheless. Where's the paper I need to sign?" Snape asked, his face bland, but he knew Harry had been working with him long enough to know he was pleased.

Harry handed the paper over to him with the same indifference, although Severus could tell he was sternly suppressing the urge to laugh out loud in joy at his successful completion of the first Potions trial. 

Severus read the paper, marked the grade (average) in the proper place with a few comments (mainly about how this student could do better). _'Well, it was off-color. If this were my class I would fail him, but the university standard is well-established and as this one will do what it was meant to do--'_ He signed his name with a flourish. "Of course, with some small concentration, which you sorely seem to be lacking this evening, you could have made a better mark. This is the lowest acceptable standard to pass." He reached in his bottom drawer with a smile hidden by his hair as he bent down to retrieve the seal stored there as he listened half-bemused to Harry's snort of laughter. _'And why is it, Mr. Potter, you are so distracted?'_ His smile got wider.

He couldn't get into this drawer anymore without thinking Harry could break into it regardless of the ward or lock he put on it. At first he'd railed against the meaning of it but as they'd got closer, he began to think it more of a sign that all would be well between them. Especially when Harry'd had to work very hard, indeed, to break into anyone else's. The only ones he could open by instinct were Severus' own. Not that he told him what it meant.

Straightening, he left the drawer open and schooled his face back into its smooth mask but suspected he wasn't fooling Harry for an instant. The thought made him warm inside and he decided, as he put the primed seal to the paper leaving his personal glyph, that tonight was as good a night as any to try and purposefully woo Harry instead of dancing around the issue any more. He'd waited him out. It had been more than a six weeks since Harry had officially broken up with Draco, more since he'd shown any outward signs of renewed interest in him. In fact, they went out of their way to avoid each other.

Dropping the seal back in the drawer, he closed and warded it again. He saw Harry's small smile, obviously thinking the same thing he'd been a few moments before. _'Impertinent whelp. I wonder how long it will take him to break it this time?'_ He cleared his throat suddenly nervous. "It seems to me, the completion of this potion, despite its barely acceptable execution, marks a small milestone in your future career. Perhaps, assuming you have the time, you'd be willing to share a small libation in celebration?" _'There, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Just the right touch and leaves him a plausible out if I have been misreading him.'_

Excitement and hope coloured Harry's face and he readily agreed, replying wryly, "Why thank you, Severus, I think I'd enjoy 'a small libation'."

Severus felt the hidden tension in his words and perked up a bit. "Very well, let me lock up and we can leave." He warded his office with his usual concentration, refusing to allow his own underlying nervousness and anticipation make him sloppy. Finishing, he turned and held out a hand indicating Harry should precede him out of the room. When Severus had locked the door to the lab, they walked companionably down to his quarters. Once inside, he indicated Harry should make himself comfortable in the sitting room.

Harry settled on the couch in front of the fireplace while Severus poured and warmed them both a brandy. The thick amber liquid sparkled in the firelight and he took a deep breath before walking back to the couch, handing Harry his snifter before settling himself down, turned sideways facing him, his knee against the back of the sofa. _'Harry seems a bit nervous.'_ Snape smirked at himself, _'And you are so calm?'_

Harry looked around the room. "Where's Horatio? Doesn't he normally hang out around the fireplace in the evenings?"

Severus chuckled, "I suspect he's hiding in his room digesting the stoat he ate the other day when I let him out to hunt for the last time this year. He's such a greedy gut. I finally had to carry him back, after I got tired of waiting for him. He's usually so fast, but he was so full he was waddling. The ermine bulged his sides like a thick sausage." They both laughed lightly at the picture Severus painted of the long graceful snake heaving from side to side, dragging his swollen abdomen along the grass.

The brandy had been mellow, their conversation more so. They talked about philosophy--something Harry was taking that term; both found they were in agreement on quite a few ideas, Harry questioning Severus in others. At each point made and discussed, they each crept a little closer until they were almost touching.

Without warning, Severus leaned forward. Their eyes locked and as Harry's voice trailed off, Severus lightly traced long fingers down Harry's cheek and slowly leaned over, giving Harry plenty of time to pull away if he wanted. He placed the softest of kisses on Harry's lips, his hand sliding to cup his cheek, the thumb running over his lips. Harry's skin was butter soft. Another kiss, a little firmer, a little longer, followed the first. He was delighted when the younger man leaned into them with gasps of pleasure, his mouth opening slightly. Pulling back, the desire he saw in those eyes reflected his own. 

Harry was transfixed. "I've wanted this for a long time," he murmured.

"So have I," Severus whispered. He'd felt the building hunger in Harry match his own while they talked this evening until he couldn't wait any longer to taste him; the feelings afterwards left him dizzy.

_'It's like coming home after a long absence.'_ Severus thought as he leaned in for another taste, moving closer, his bent knee overlapping Harry's. His hand landed comfortably on the side of Harry's thigh by his knee, the other threading through the unruly, black hair, pulling him closer into a deeper kiss. With the feel of Severus' tongue on his lips, Harry laid one hand on the black clad shoulder. The other hand rose without him noticing, to stroke the lined cheek, only to slide to his neck as he kissed him back, pulling him even closer.

Without breaking, Harry twisted slightly and, extending his leg, fell back against the cushions of the couch's arm; Severus followed, supporting his weight on his forearms, half covering Harry as their lips and tongues danced with each other. They finally broke for air, chests heaving, eyes locked once more as each tried to read the other.

"Perhaps we could continue this somewhere with a little more room?" Severus murmured huskily.

Harry smiled, "Only if it's in your bed. Mine's much too lumpy."

"Lumpy, eh? Maybe you haven't been using it enough?" Each word was punctuated by a nip of his lips.

"Definitely not the _proper_ usage," Harry purred, arching into him.

Severus groaned as he rose from the couch, drawing Harry up with him.

"Merlin, what a mouth!" Harry murmured into his lips, standing close to him. Severus briefly smiled into them before pulling Harry closer. He noticed Harry tasted of warm brandy and then thought of nothing at all except the tightening as Harry deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking Severus' lightly like a wanton hand on sensitive skin. Their arms wrapped around each other, moving as their bodies strained to touch in as many places as possible.

They broke apart slightly, neither really wanting to separate, but the horizontal comforts of the downy bed in the next room beckoned like a siren's song. They staggered in finally, stopping frequently to divest robes and other outer clothing, taking the time at each pause to worship with hands and mouths the flesh exposed. Eventually, clad only in their skin, Harry pulled Severus down with him onto the bed, his mouth forming an "O" of surprise when he sank into the downy softness. Severus chuckled murmuring, "What? You thought I slept on a bed of nails?" After mock-biting him on the neck (when Harry muttered something about "a coffin") Severus lowered the lights until the room was bathed in an amber glow. 

Harry lay on his back with Severus half covering him; he wanted to pull Harry close with arms and legs but a sixth sense held him back. Perhaps it was that Severus was touching more than he was being touched, or maybe it was the sudden stillness he felt from Harry--nevertheless, it was odd given his enthusiasm a few moments ago. He didn't think it stemmed from any lack of interest--perhaps shyness? Leaning up on a forearm, he contented himself with capturing those sinful lips with his own, his dextrous hand lightly tracing across any bare skin that passed under them, letting Harry get used to them together. 

"So beautiful," he murmured and when Harry threw his head back, he took the opportunity to chase his lips down Harry's neck ending with an open mouth kiss where neck met chest, lightly sucking the skin as he pulled up.

"What?" Harry asked, dazed. He looked stunned, eyes glazed, as if the sensations were brand new and overwhelming.

Taking it easy, slowing it down, Severus ran his hand down Harry's side, caressing the young silky skin from shoulder to knee, his touch light and undemanding, more to feel his skin than to arouse. He liked the changes in texture from warm and smooth to crisp soft down; he could feel the softness of the skin underneath. Propping himself up on his elbow, he looked down Harry's length taking in the tapered waist and hips, the leanly muscled, finely haired chest and broader shoulders. He raised his face to look Harry in the eyes. "Absolutely beautiful."

When Harry didn't reply, he realised he'd embarrassed him. "I assure you, I'm not exaggerating. Surely you knew?"

"Not really, I'm not all _that_ experienced." He cleared his throat looking away. "They weren't exactly knocking down my door, you know. And when I answered, they usually didn't stay to visit long. But--never mind--you don't want to hear about all that nonsense."

"Actually, believe it or not, I don't mind--I don't consider it 'nonsense' as you say," Severus assured him quietly, his hands stilled. "Who you _were_ with doesn't interest me as much as learning what your preferences are." He lay back, half on his side, drawing Harry close in encouragement. Harry put his head on his shoulder, letting Severus hold him, the arms strong and secure around him. The hollow where his cheek rested in its downy nest was perfect. He could almost believe it had been made just for him.

"Well," he started, a bit shy about the whole thing, "I had a small idea of my leanings when I was 15--the best way I could describe my first kiss with a girl was 'wet'." He felt Severus' chuckle rumble through his chest. "But it wasn't until I was 16 that I experimented a little with Seamus who was having similar thoughts. It was really awkward, but we managed it in the end and discovered two things. I was definitely into blokes and Seamus was not." He chuckled, "Luckily, he remained a friend, although it was a while before we could look at each other without laughing our arses off."

Severus chuckled appreciatively. Harry went on, "I was approached by Fred Weasley, of all people, but only once. Then, given my success rate, I decided to test the theory and made it with one of the Hufflepuff girls but found it altogether more effort than it was worth. We both agreed not to try it again. Actually, I think she said something about trying hard to forget about it altogether."

They both laughed and Severus told him about his one and only experience with a woman, a professional. "She was soft in all the wrong places and not hard enough in others and breasts--" He shuddered. "It was awful." 

Harry began to really relax for the first time since they'd entered Severus' rooms. "Justin came and went, pleasant but no real fire. We parted amicably. After, I went quite a while with only myself. Until Draco that is. He came on to me with all the subtlety of a Ridgeback in heat but was surprisingly--gentle when I finally agreed."

He was lost in thought for a moment. "He was amazing but after a while--you know, the one thing I never figured out was why. I think he hated me more often than not. It isn't like he even needed me; he had a whole stable to choose from and we had such different tastes. I mean, I like a nice quiet cuddle by the fire, he likes hard core bondage. It was like a hemophiliac dating a vampire." 

Severus had to laugh, "Very apt given Draco's verbal penchant for drawing blood." He waited for a response and getting none he raised his head, looking down as best he could without moving Harry and saw him staring vacantly into space a furrow between his brows. Concerned he'd said something wrong he asked carefully, "Are you all right?"

Severus could feel slight tremours against him and gently pulled him closer. Harry insinuated a leg between his. The hand resting lightly on his hip slid around to his back, the hand firm. "I'm fine--just got lost there a moment, sorry." He was silent again.

"You don't have to continue if it distresses you--" Severus began.

Harry interrupted him, "No, it's all right. It was just an uncomfortable time, that's all. It was so gradual, his seduction. After the first three months, I began to question why I was with him when just the thought of having sex with him either left me cold or scared the piss out of me. When I told him so, he stopped. It was all right for a while after, even though he was still--rough. And I wasn't very nice to him at times--I still wonder if I hurt him or not. By the time we defeated Voldemort, it was like I was drugged. I didn't much like it but the sensations--gods, they were overwhelming. So intense, so--inside me."

_'Well, that explains the looks on his face in the hallway with Draco that afternoon.'_ He began to know where this was going to end and it made him furious, but he hid it.

"I felt so out of control. Being with him just didn't feel right; I can't explain it. Eventually, I just knew I had to break away if I was ever going to keep myself." The trembling increased. "Draco was most upset--we didn't part well."

Severus, ever mindful of Harry's tremours, pulled him as close as he could get him without sharing skin. He tucked Harry's head against his shoulder all the while circling his back with his one hand, the other holding him firm. _'He's so warm. His skin, moist and silky. He's beautiful to hold.'_

Harry felt his shakes absorbed by Severus' body. He never knew there could be such comfort in just being held by someone. He'd never had someone just hold him like this, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat, without the added demands of sex as well. Nor had he held someone in return. He'd never truly been content in his life, although he was getting a taste of it now and knew he could become quickly addicted to it.

He admitted Severus' body was not what he'd been expecting; slender, well muscled, and toned--he should have guessed given the way he fought. "You're a pleasure to hold," Harry said absently, his hand trailing down Severus' front not noticing the start of pleased surprise Severus felt at his words made honest by his unflinching, wandering fingers.

And he meant it. The fine crisp hairs on his chest were not obtrusive (were quite comfortable, in fact) and tapered to a thinning line down his flat, taut abdomen.

Severus' skin was what confounded him. Smooth and hot in places, smooth, hard, and ridged in others. His hands would be exploring a silky expanse when they would encounter an area with more textured flesh and every time he found one, Severus would tense and then relax as he moved his hands to a new place. He knew what they were--scars, lots of them. It was obvious he'd had a hard go at it as a spy. But it was difficult when Severus' back, in particular, was almost covered with them. He couldn't _not_ touch it, could he?

He finally had to find out. "Severus, may I ask you a question?"

Severus hesitated. "You can ask me anything, but I may not answer."

_'Well, he did promise me honesty,'_ Harry thought. Nuzzling the side of his neck he asked, "What are the scars on your back from?" Severus captured his mouth.

Severus pulled slightly away from him, his tongue still tasting Harry's lips. He murmured, "They are leftover marks from a time in my life I would like very much to forget."

"All right," Harry said, knowing he would find out eventually when Severus felt more comfortable with him. They would have plenty of time if he had his way.

Their love-making continued unhurriedly with slow, lingering kisses and long leisurely touches, each taking their time to explore what the other liked or didn't. It was glorious and Harry, especially, liked the pace. Severus was letting him get used to each stage of their foreplay before escalating it whenever Harry let him know he was ready for it, his dulcet voice telling him between hot wet nips of his incredible mouth how much Harry was desired, wanted. The honey of Severus' words along with his sensual hands and facile tongue soothed Harry's fears, and he was soon lost in the sensations of their bodies sliding together. The past was where it belonged.

Eventually, with mute, sinuous movements, Harry let Severus know he wanted him closer, wanted to share. They both wanted to share.

Severus took a jar off the bed table next to them, setting it between them on the bed. Harry had started trembling again at the sight of the innocent pot, worse than before, his eyes widening slightly. Every warning signal started going off in Severus' head as he took measure of Harry's readiness. What he saw cooled most of his ardour; Harry was terrified. It was wrenching, but there was no escaping the stark fear in his eyes, the tenseness around his mouth, the stiffness in his body where only a few minutes before had only been pliable suppleness.

"Harry, what's wrong?" he asked softly, concerned and not hiding it. He had a flash of insight, _'The day of the duel. Harry was limping. 'Don't make me injure you. You've pushed me to the edge; I won't let you hurt me again. I've Had Enough--' is what he'd said. Draco, damn him!'_ "Talk to me, Harry. We can't work through it, if I don't know what the problem is." He kissed his forehead, moving the jar behind him, out of sight. He lay back into the bed, pulling Harry with him, easing his head back on his shoulder.

He felt Harry raise his head a bit, his lips touching his chest. He was shaking, although Severus could tell he was trying to get it under control. "It was Draco," he heard him say.

"Did he force you?" Severus asked already suspecting the answer, tracing his hand down his face. _'In fact, if I'm right, I'm surprised you're letting me get this close.'_

Harry nodded and snuggled closer; Severus could feel the effort he made to still the tremours. His voice muffled, "He dragged me down to the dungeon--the spell he used made my head ache--he bound me--" 

He stopped suddenly and was so open in his fear, Severus didn't need the spell to see the nauseating memories and feelings replaying in Harry's mind. Harry must have realised he'd inadvertantly connected to Severus and with a gentle mental push, Severus felt the momentary disorientation he always did when Harry succeeded in shutting him out. 

Severus held him quietly, not moving, not willing to risk this fragile trust; Harry's tremours continued unabated, a constant vibration down his body felt into his bones. He knew what Harry had gone through. _'He was brutal--like father like son; I wonder how much Lucius had to do with all this. Harry's treatment at Draco's hands was like mine at Lucius'--it could take a long, long time to overcome the total trauma of it all. But then again, I never had anyone to hold me afterwards. Maybe just holding him will help.'_ He would give him the time to work through it. His desire was under control; he could wait. "Harry, you don't have to say any more--I understand." His hand moved slowly, gently in his hair.

Harry was silent a long moment and whispered, "I know you do." The way Harry said it made him wonder what memories of his Harry had seen of which he was unaware. "No, Severus, I need to--otherwise it will sit inside me and fester. I need to get this from between us." He gave a harsh huff. "He left me to die, you know. He expected me to. It took hours to loose myself. Long afterwards, I could still feel him in my body. I was so ashamed--I still hurt the next day. I could feel you watching me limp. And then, we talked that evening. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I really wanted to--almost did. You felt so good and safe. I could tell you wanted me, but I didn't want to ruin it. I wanted to stay but didn't know how to ask, didn't know if I should."

Severus kissed him tenderly, his lips lingering on his forehead. He noticed the trembling was abating, was in fact almost gone. "It's all right, I understand." _'You wanted to stay? We've wasted so much time,'_ he thought as he said, "I wanted you to stay but didn't think you would." 

Harry smiled against his chest. "I know. We're a right pair of fools, aren't we."

"Probably. We've been avoiding this for quite some time." At Harry's nod he asked, "You've healed all right?" He heard Harry catch his breath. "Harry? You did you get it attended?" he asked already knowing the answer; it was the same as his would have been.

He snorted derisively, "Who would I go to? Madame Pomfrey? I think not."

"You could have come to me, although I can sense I probably wouldn't have topped your list," Severus chided quietly. "You should be checked, to make sure it's healing properly. I can do this for you now, but if you're not, you really must go see Poppy. She'll be discreet."

Harry was about to say 'no' until he looked up and saw the raw concern in Severus' face. _'For me,'_ he thought in wonder. He squirmed with embarrassment. "That's not exactly what I had in mind when I got naked with you tonight."

Severus smiled down at him, "Not exactly what I had in mind either," he murmured, "not that my mind was fully engaged in any event. My 'head', maybe--"

Harry smiled back, the humour going a little way to making him less tense about the whole thing. He knew Severus was right.

Severus kissed him briefly and, when Harry finally agreed, had him lay on his side. While Harry was arranging himself, Severus summoned another jar from his shelf containing a thick healing lubricant with a heavy numbing agent. He set the jar down on the bed, opening the top in preparation.

His hands gentled Harry along his back and sides, trying to stop the tremours which had started again. _'Gods, he's magnificent,'_ he couldn't help thinking as his hands slid along the fine texture of Harry's skin. When Harry started to relax, Severus dipped his fingers into the thick ointment, spreading an extra, large dollop in his palm. Reaching down, he tried to keep him relaxed. He could already feel the half-healed tags and debated going in any further; he'd felt enough to know Harry needed to see Poppy. _'However, he probably won't go tonight, if at all. This salve will at least speed the healing and ease any discomfort.'_ So he continued.

When Harry felt looser, he gently started to check him; he could feel Harry shudder, tensing, and he silently cursed Draco. _'Must go slowly. Don't scare him. That's it, he's easing.'_ He stopped when he felt the damage. He gently explored and found more half-healed tissue. He smeared the salve as thickly as he could.

Harry was making noises that at first sounded like pleasure but when he looked over his shoulder he could see the pain he was trying to hide lining his young face, hands fisted into the sheets. He slowly withdrew and surreptitiously looked at his hand. He leaned over and kissed the top of his shoulder. "Harry, I'm almost done, I have to apply more salve and then we'll be finished." At Harry's soft noise of acceptance, he dipped his finger into the salve in his palm and gently went back to coat more of it in spots he knew he'd missed. Harry cried out at the second invasion and Severus murmured as he withdrew, "I'm so sorry, Harry. So sorry it hurts. The salve will help it heal--it should be numbing soon." Muttering a cleaning spell, he removed the blood and lubricant from his hands.

The pain was incredible, almost as bad as the night it happened. The images swirled in Harry's head and for an instant he felt like bolting from the bed until he remembered where he was and who it was kissing his back and neck with such tenderness. He could hardly fathom that the lips belonged to the same man whose past voice had once shouted imprecations at him, and he realised with a start that 'this' man had always been there, he'd just been too blind to see it; perhaps this was at the root of the absolute trust he felt in Severus at this moment. 

The pain was disappearing as promised. So when Severus moved closer and placed his arm around Harry's waist, his long body curled around him, pulling him tight against him, Harry tried to relax into him, tried to still his queasiness. The press of warm lips against his neck, the gentle stroking of Severus' hands over his, did much to dispel the lingering fear. They lay like this a long time, Harry thinking that Severus might need the closeness as much as he did.

Eventually Harry turned over to face him and was shocked at the fierce expression on his face. "Severus, what's wrong?" he asked, his heart racing; breathing was difficult. 

Severus' eyes were unreadable and tormented him. "I--Oh hell." He placed his forehead on Harry's, breathing deeply, "You'll need to see Poppy," was all he said. 

_'Have I lost you before I even have you?'_ Harry searched his eyes, trying to see what was going on behind the still face. He got no response and was helpless to stop the quivering. Severus wrapped his arms around Harry and held him tight, whispering, "Damn Draco, what did he do to you?"

Feeling ashamed, like damaged goods, Harry buried his face in his shoulder. "Nothing. Everything. I'll understand if you don't want me anymore."

Severus hid the savagery he felt against Draco and whispered, each phrase punctuated by a gentle kiss as his lips nudged Harry's face up to his, "Harry, don't do this to yourself. Of course I still want you. We can wait--as long as you need us to. Are you truly ready? Can you allow me to touch you intimately without shaking? Can you touch me the same way without a vestige of fear? Say you can and you'll be ready. I'll be here for as long as it takes. I'm quite content with what we have now."

"Thank you," Harry whispered back; his eyes were heavy and starting to close. Severus kissed his lids and then settled back into the bed, holding his young lover securely. "That sounds wonderful," he heard him murmur and several minutes later, the trembling finally stopped as Harry fell asleep. Severus held him close through the night, awed by his trust, giving him the first night's undisturbed sleep he'd had in weeks.

He was going to **_hurt_** Draco someday.


	20. Part II A Moving Day

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Twenty : A Moving Day**

**18 September 1999**

A week later Severus came out of the bed chamber to find Harry sitting cross-legged in the one deep window seat in his dining room. While he usually was the early riser, Harry'd had a hellacious nightmare last night, leaving Severus bruised but satisfied that Harry was back in normal sleep. Exhausted when he himself had drifted off, he'd slept in.

Harry was not aware of him yet, so he took the opportunity to really watch him. Almost immediately he could see the melancholy in the lines of his body, the sagging shoulders, the hands limp in his lap. 

He made his way over to him, stiffly, the bruises on his chest and arms sore. He really wanted a bath to ease them but could think of no way to do it without including Harry. The problem was Harry wasn't ready to be touched; he wasn't prepared to be seen.

He cleared his throat as he approached, knowing Harry sometimes startled easily, and he'd been right, Harry had jumped a bit at the sound. Turning to face him with a small smile, he asked pleasantly, "Good morning, Severus. Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough. Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No, I was thinking I should go back to my quarters, get ready, and then go down to eat."

With what he said and how he said it, Severus realised what the problem was. One he'd thought about, long and hard but had come to no resolution. He and Harry were living in separate rooms. Harry's were high up in the castle towers, his were down in the dungeons. _'More than space separates us, though,'_ he thought. While Severus was a patient man and he wanted to share living quarters with Harry in any event, he couldn't help thinking that living together might help Harry overcome his continuing fear of physical intimacy. However, despite his desire to have Harry close, he hesitated asking him to give up his cosy rooms. He couldn't move because he needed to be near his work. _'Truly a conundrum. Dare I ask him to give up the light and live with me in the dungeons, a place he has every reason to hate? I can't move the potions, some of them can't take the sun and Apparating to them is out as well with the Hogwarts' Wards. Perhaps I can ask Albus to cut me some direct routes.'_

Forcing some cheerfulness into his voice, something quite unnatural in the first place, he said, "What a capital idea. Shall we meet, say, in an hour in the Great Hall?"

Harry looked at him strangely but agreed. Hopping off the ledge, he was about to leave when Severus stopped him with a hand on his arm. Very slowly he put his arms around him and kissed him gently. Harry didn't react badly, this time, and kissed him back, deepening it, letting Severus taste him, but after a few moments, Severus could feel him start to tremble. Harry pulled away. "Sorry about that--I must be such a disappointment to you." he mumbled and before Severus could respond or stop him, he was gone.

"Well, that could have gone better," Severus chided himself in the empty room.

They shared a bed each night, some times wrapped around each other, some times spent separate joined only by their hands and the air they breathed. That first morning they'd awakened together he'd been rocked by the way Harry had withdrawn from him given his initial, trusting response to him the night before. It was almost as if his confession of Draco's abuse had unlocked the response he should have had in the first place. He suspected Harry had deeply suppressed the natural reactions until he had unwittingly confronted Harry with the reality of the whole thing.

The abrupt ending to their kiss this morning was actually not as bad a reaction as it had been the last few days--at least he got the kiss. Harry jumped at the slightest sound and it was almost painful the way his skin eventually twitched whenever Severus touched him. Harry had his good moments and his bad, the best being his persistent attempts to overcome his fears, the worst being the dreams. It was just one more thing they needed to work through and Severus knew they had plenty of time to do so. He refused to give up just as he refused to keep his distance.

_'An hour? Perhaps I can work in a short soak before I have to show for breakfast.'_ Horatio accompanied him to the bath and curled in a sunspot by the window while Severus talked to him about Harry. Horatio hissed at him several times as if they were having a regular conversation and Severus missed Harry at those times thinking it would be nice to share this with him--if he could ever overcome his own reticence in Harry seeing him in the light.

When the hot water had soothed his aching muscles, he climbed out and lay on the tatami mat. Horatio joined him and coiled on his stomach. Remembering what Harry said about the snake understanding what he said, he wondered if Horatio was trying to comfort him or, as his more cynical mind suggested, was just taking advantage of another sunspot and hot moist skin. Regardless, he felt better for it.

Before dressing, his wand made short work of the bruising and a little ahead of schedule he went up to the Great Hall. Harry was nowhere to be seen yet, but Dumbledore was already there; the two seats next to him were empty. He sat down beside him--not his normal place, but he had an idea and needed to talk.

"Good morn to you, Severus. Did you sleep well?" Dumbledore forked in a piece of waffle, the syrup catching the top of his beard near his mouth. As he wiped it off with his napkin he muttered, "Blasted syrup. Love the food, hate the mess." 

Severus smiled at the little dribble left over, then sobered, "Not really, Albus. Harry had some _difficulties_ last night."

Albus nodded saying, "Ah, the dreams again? Which one? Voldemort or Draco?"

Severus stared at him; he'd said nothing to him before about them. "Draco, and how--"

"It's only natural given what happened. He _is_ all right, isn't he?" Dumbledore asked, his head tilted, eyes questioning.

If Severus was stunned at this bit of information he hid it well, saying only, "Not really. He's still not healed completely; at least I got him to Poppy two days ago after some argument. He's a bit skittish, but I think it will be all right in the end. I just need to be patient."

Dumbledore pointed his fork at him, "Not so difficult for you. You've more than most. Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about before Harry comes down. He's almost on his way."

Snape shook his head. "I'll never understand--never mind. It's our living arrangements. I would like us to move in together, but I can't live in his place and I can't ask him to live in mine--it's too small and too dark for him."

"Hmmm," Albus mumbled around another bite. Wiping his mouth again, he asked, "A bit premature, don't you think?"

Severus gave it the deliberation it deserved--it was a valid question, one he'd asked himself many times in the past week. "No, I don't think so, Albus, if for no other reason than I feel it would be unwise to leave Harry alone, especially at night. I opened something, something deep, something he was unable to work through on his own. He _is_ getting better, is less afraid than he was; I would like to think I have had some small influence in the matter."

"I have no doubt you have been very supportive," Albus ventured.

"It's more than a prop, Albus. This is about acceptance--my acceptance of him, as he is, despite what has happened to him." He took a sip of his tea. "And this is for me, too. I want him with me--not separate. I don't want him to think he's being abandoned--" He frowned at Dumbledore's neutral expression, convinced he'd not got his point across. "Ach! I can't explain it, I just know it would be damaging to us both to keep things the way they are--there's no way to move forward and I suspect he feels as odd leaving each morning to go back to his quarters as I do when he goes. Living together is just the right thing to do," he finished with conviction.

"Have you asked him?" Dumbledore asked, giving it due consideration.

"What? Where he wants to live? No, I haven't yet. I was hoping to find a compromise. I don't live in the dungeons by choice, you know," Severus replied, missing the point.

Albus chuckled, his mouth twisted wryly. "True, but I was actually questioning more about whether you've asked him if he _wants_ to cohabitate with you in the first place."

"Oh." This had clearly not occurred to Snape.

Dumbledore shook his head saying, "I rather thought you hadn't." He eyed Severus a moment and continued on more seriously, "He's had so few choices, Severus. Let him know you want him to move in with you, but allow him the decision and the control. He may surprise you. As to where? Let me think on it before you do. I have a couple of ideas, but I'll have to check the castle plans first." 

He looked beyond Snape. "Good morning, Harry! Did you sleep well?"

****

Later in the early afternoon, Severus received the summons he was waiting for: Albus wanted to see him.

"Ah, Severus. Good of you to come so quickly," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Come here, come here. Look at this. I may have found the solution to the _where_ if you're both willing."

Phineas snorted on the wall behind him. "Albus, are you sure? We've never truly established how much sun Snape can take. He might just disintegrate if exposed too long to the light."

Dumbledore raised a brow in warning. "Phineas, behave."

"Please, Albus, let me get the turpentine," Snape almost begged, clearly annoyed with the painting.

Phineas lip curled, "Nasty Git."

Severus retorted hotly, "I've seen still life's with more _joie de vivre_ than you."

The painted huffed and exclaimed, angry, "That's it, Albus, I demand--"

"You demand? You're dead. Now go sulk in another frame and leave us be." Dumbledore harrumphed and cleared his throat. "Now, Severus, where were we? Ah yes, the map."

"You'll regret this, Albus," Phineas warned with dire drama.

Exasperated beyond patience and discretion, Dumbledore threatened, "You know Phineas, Severus is not the only one with a goodly supply of paint thinner." Merlin chortled from across the room. "Now leave or be quiet. Your choice."

Phineas sulked, leaning against the frame. He opened his mouth to speak. Albus grabbed a cloth off the desk and held it up like he was cleaning. Phineas shut it with a snap and silently fumed.

"Good gad. Some days there's no placating them," Dumbledore mumbled, pulling the map over in front of them. He weighted the corners and sides down with the odds and ends of magical gadgets and small machines scattered around his desk.

"Here are your quarters, Severus." He pointed to a spot in the middle of the plans, one small wall along the outside of the castle--his dining room with the only window. "Here are your classrooms," pointing to another outside wall, "and here's your workroom." This was to the interior with no windows, directly connected to his quarters on one side and his classroom on the other. Small but convenient.

"If we were to move your quarters here," he pointed to another space further up but close to his classrooms _and_ all along the outside wall. "We could cut through here to connect them," his finger traced a line between the two areas, "and you and Harry could have larger, more pleasant quarters looking out on the moors and the lake. The rooms are about two storeys up at that point where the land here," he pointed to the craggy hills on the topo map, "falls away in the back. What do you think?"

"What about the library?" Severus asked. "Harry doesn't know about that yet." Phineas snorted.

Dumbledore quelled the former Headmaster into silence, his glare penetrating over the tops of his spectacles. Apparently satisfied that he'd managed to quiet him, he went on in a much more pleasant tone, "Well, since the library exists in Wizard space, creating a new opening and closing the old would be fairly simple, we just need to re-ward it. The same is true for your greenhouse."

Severus nodded, thoughtful over the plans. "Where does this stairway go?" he asked pointing to a set, a few feet from their back door.

"Hmmm, that's new. Seems the castle has been doing a little remodelling. It does that every now and again. I suspect it goes outside, but I will have to look. So what do you say?"

"I say I want to see it first." Severus was impatient to go off and see the new rooms.

"All right, I have time now. Let's go." Albus grabbed his hat planting it firmly on his head before heading out the door with Severus in his wake. They corkscrewed down the Headmaster's stair to the main hall and walked quickly to the rooms in question. As many years as Severus had been living in the dungeons and as well as he thought he knew them, he also knew the castle sometimes had a mind of its own; he would never discover it all.

They opened a plain, ordinary door to be met with air and light. The rooms were magnificent--huge fireplaces, large spaces, and windows--tall banks of deeply set windows with high seats begging for pillows and cushions lined the walls. They opened for fresh air, something his lone window did not. He walked into the bed chamber and beyond to the loo. He examined the closets and then found a little corridor off to the side in the back of the largest walk-in closet. He walked through the narrow door at the end and found a bathing pool, only it was larger and brighter than the bath in his current quarters. A skylight hung above off-center with small windows set at eye level, if one were sitting on the ledge running around the edge of the pool. His had only the skylight. It was good. No, better than good. It was--

"--perfect. Absolutely perfect. Even if Harry doesn't move in, I'll take them. The plants will do well with all the sun and Horatio will probably want to live in here."

"Good, that's settled. I'll have the house-elves move your things and then all you need to do is ask your paramour." He leaned over and whispered, "I really do think you could be quite convincing about it, don't you?" Severus stared at him and his saucy wink, speechless as Dumbledore laughed merrily, leaving the room.

He explored all the rooms again and spent the better part of the afternoon directing the house-elves as to where his things would go. The chambers were large enough compared to his old space. There was ample room for Harry to add his possessions as well with one empty room off the side of the sitting room sufficient for him to have a private study. He had the elves clean it but otherwise it remained unfurnished. When they finished moving his things and added the passageways to his workroom, library, and greenhouse, it felt like he'd lived there forever. Dumbledore came in the late afternoon, commenting on how cosy the space was, and they re-warded the entrance to both the library and greenhouse. 

It was done. Now all he had to do was find Harry.

****

He eventually found him after dinner, where he'd not showed, up in the Astronomy Tower sans the invisibility cloak. _'Why am I not surprised?'_ He was tucked in a corner of the deck, his knees drawn up to his face, lost in thought.

Severus sat next to him, the autumn chill in the stone seeping through his robes. "We have to stop meeting like this. You're seriously encroaching into my thinking space."

Harry frowned. "I got it first."

He retorted, his voice quavering like an old man's, "Perhaps, but age has its privileges," he laughed.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Severus knew his mimicked voices always made Harry smile. "Now, you're just being silly," he said.

Severus was indignant. "The last person who called me silly got thrown in the lake. I believe they made a nice appetizer for the giant squid." He put his hand tentatively on Harry's knee. "Tell me, Harry. Why are you up here? I've been looking for you for ages and I know you must be hungry."

Harry's angry frustration level with himself was manifest as he lashed out, "You're not my keeper!"

While taken aback by the unexpected, if understandable, outburst and knowing Harry wasn't through with his anger, Severus replied calmly, "No, I'm not, nor do I want to be. I have better things to do with my time. I merely mention it because I, too, have missed dinner and am a bit peckish myself. If you're not, there is no need to yell about it."

"I'm not some little kid you have to keep tabs on," Harry replied sullenly.

Severus rose in one flowing movement. "No, you're not; I do _not_ sleep with children. I _had_ thought you were the mature young man who chooses to share my bed. I admit I _was_ concerned when you failed to show up for both lunch and dinner, but I wasn't looking for you for those reasons." He looked around at the parapets, his voice dripping with disdain to cover the disappointment as he said, "I'll leave you to your thoughts." He was through the door and away before Harry could react.

Harry caught up with him at the stairs to the dungeons. "Severus, stop! Wait." Harry put his hand on his arm, breathless from his running. "I'm--I--Oh shite, I'm sorry. I've been strange lately, I know. It's just--" he stopped and looked around, and said, "I'm just not used to being with someone. Not like it is with you. It scares me, all right?"

Severus covered Harry's hand with his, the fingers stroking, soothing without him even noticing. "Actually, I _do_ understand. I had _my_ panic attack when you were with Poppy. You are not the only one with--adjustments--to make." He chuckled, "In fact, it was one of those adjustments I came to see you about."

A gamut of emotions ran through Severus and across his face in that instant--hope, despair, excitement, disappointment, and something almost like longing, and he could see from the sadness in Harry's eyes that he'd not only seen it, but understood it. Severus expected him to question him about it, but Harry surprised him. "What adjustments?" he asked instead, curious.

Severus decided to do it despite his current misgivings. Nothing would be gained by holding back. "Come, I'll show you." After navigating the stairs, he strode down the hall with his ground-eating pace, his robes billowing around him. He could feel Harry's open admiration of his normal loose gaited walk, which Harry had told him that first night was "--more like stalking, really, and oh sooo sexy." It made him want to walk more.

Harry slowed when they neared the entrance to Severus' old quarters, but Severus swept right by them with a small smile on his lips. Harry scrambled to catch up. Severus knew he desperately wanted to know where they were going but was grateful that for once he kept his mouth shut and just went along with it.

When they reached a plain door, Severus said the password and it swung open on--

"--Wow. You've moved!" Harry exclaimed, walking in, turning in place to catch it all. "Looks like you moved up, too. And windows! So many rooms," he said walking from room to room. He didn't note the one empty room off of the sitting room. "This place is brilliant. When did you decide to move here?" Harry asked, excited.

Severus took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing the nervous tic in his stomach to stop. "When I decided to ask you to share rooms with me." _'There, I said it. It's done. Well?'_

Harry stood stunned. "To-together?" he stammered.

"That is usually what one has to do to share rooms," he dryly pointed out.

"You want me to live with you? When I've given you nothing but grief?" Severus nodded, biting back his chuckle. "And you don't mind people--knowing--we're together?"

"No, I don't mind at all." Severus' heart pounded with dread. _'Damn, I had NOT thought of him being ashamed to be known as my lover. Of course, he wouldn't want it to be common knowledge that the golden boy was shacking up with the Old Greasy Professor. What was I thinking?'_ Withering inside, he asked slowly, "Do you have a problem with this? If so, we could always just--"

"Never!" Harry's sound conviction did much to allay Severus' well-earned fears. "I would be proud for us to be known as a couple. It's just--are you sure? I mean, we haven't even--that is, I can't--oh, hell, you know what I mean. Then there's the matter of how safe I am to be around. You know--the whole _'Boy-Who's-A-Living-Target-You-Better-Duck-Fast'_ thing." He grinned sheepishly.

Severus chuckled, "I suspect I'm more liable to come under attack for cradle-robbing than for anything related to your well-earned reputation."

Harry raised his head, his expression one of stumped surprise. "I hadn't thought of our ages. You don't seem old to me and I don't feel young. It just feels _right_, somehow."

Severus was grateful for the sentiment and took the three steps necessary to enfold him loosely in his arms. "So you'll join me in our new quarters?"

Harry looked coyly at him, "Oh, I suppose so, if _you_ insist." Severus growled and kissed him, lightly running his tongue over his lips the way he'd found Harry liked. Harry sighed. "Oh all right, so _I_ insist." He kissed him back, suddenly happy. "So, when can I move my things?"

_'No tremours, perhaps this was not such a bad idea after all,'_ Severus thought as he said, "The house-elves can pack them tonight, if it's your wish. They transferred all of this quite quickly."

Harry moved away, taking in the rooms with a sweep of his eyes. "I wish it," he said quietly. Turning back to Severus, he said lightly, "Goodbye, lumpy bed. Oh, and Sev?"

_'Sev? Well, I suppose I can live with it as long as it's not 'Sevvie'.'_ He chuckled to himself and managed to say "Yes, Harry?" with a straight face.

Harry put his hand on his arm and gave him another slow kiss. "Thank you," he whispered. 

Severus welcomed him to their new home as best he could.


	21. Part II Scratching an Itch

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Twenty One : Scratching an Itch**

**19 September 1999**

The next night saw them cosily ensconced in their chairs by the fire which had been arranged in the same positions as in the old place. Although Harry would never admit it, they were both creatures of routine. Severus was reading a potions periodical, Harry his text on metaphysics--a confounding subject; there just wasn't anything solid to grab hold of, like logic. He was about to ask Severus a question, knowing from the way he was shifting in his chair that he really wasn't engaged in his reading material, when he felt his house slipper get uncomfortably snug, then tight, and then downright painful.

"Ow, what the--?" He tried to lift his foot to see what the problem was, but it was anchored to the floor by something heavy. He bent over at the same time as Severus to see Horatio gnawing on the toe of his slipper, his small fangs sunk into the thick leather.

"Oh hell," Severus said, taking in a glance the snake's dishevelled appearance. "He's molting. I hate when he molts. He's so bad-tempered and almost blind, so he bites at anything that moves."

_[*I am not tesssty, I itchesss*]_ Harry heard him hiss, and chuckled. "Well, he fancies my shoe and says he itches."

Severus settled back in his chair. "I admit, it's good you can talk to him. He always seems so miserable when he molts. Maybe you stand a better chance at making him more comfortable."

Harry considered his words a moment and then said to Horatio, _[*Can I helpsss?*]_

_[*You can rubsss sssome of the ssskin off, that would be nissse*]_ Horatio was coiling and uncoiling on the floor, rubbing his sides on the stone of the hearth. He still had Harry's shoe in his mouth and was trying to disengage his fangs from the leather.

Harry reached down and gently helped him get loose. He pulled his fingers back in time before Horatio's jaws closed on them. _[*Are you going to bitesss?*]_

If a snake could look sheepish, he did. _[*I am sssorry about that. I cannot helpsss it, it feelsss good to bitesss.*]_

Harry considered this a moment. "Well, if you have to bite--" he raised his hand and decided to practice his wandless magic. "_Accio Gauntlets_" he spelled and within seconds, the heavy leather wrist gauntlets he'd worn in Defense Against the Dark Arts practice and later into battle, sailed into his hands. He carefully removed the small daggers from the pockets on top and set them on the table next to him. Severus wordlessly picked them up and put them and their poisoned razor edges onto the mantel out of harm's way.

Harry fastened the gauntlets on both wrists, making sure they were snug, glancing over at Severus as he did so. "He says he has to bite. Thought these might help."

"Oh, by all means. Don't let me stop you; it's not like you _need_ them anymore." He chuckled, "He's not poisonous and the bites heal quickly without scars; I've had enough of them to know." He rubbed his hands in memory.

The snake had, by this time, wound his way up into Harry's lap and was draped over the arms of the chair as well. He was easily eight or nine feet in length, as big around as Harry's arm, and really looked dreadful. His bright black eyes were obscured by bits of skin starting to peel off. Harry said to him, _[*There now. If you mussst bitesss, bitesss the leather, pleassse. Not my armsss.*]_

Horatio bent his head down and tried one of them, his jaws working the gauntlet's leather, his small fangs gripping the pockets on top. _[*Not asss tasssty asss ratsss, but it will do.*]_

Harry laughed. "Would prefer a rat, but he says he'll suffer through it."

Severus stared in fascination. "You're going to remove the dead skin?" At Harry's nod, his concentration on Horatio, Severus got out of the chair and went into his study. Harry could hear him rummaging around on his shelves and was interested to note that he came back in the room with a cube shaped box with an ornate clasp. At Harry's raised brows, Severus smiled. "Might as well collect it. There are dozens of potions requiring unspecified snake skin; he never leaves me an intact skin and usually there's so little it's not worth the bother of saving it."

"Makes sense," Harry remarked, turning his attention back to Horatio. He tapped the snake gently on the head. _[*You'll have to letsss go for a little while if you wantsss me to ssstart at your head unlesss, of courssse, you wantsss me to go againssst your ssscalesss--*]_

Horatio let go and swung his pointy nose back up to Harry's eye level. _[*No, that would hurtsss.*]_ His tongue flicked in and out; he was clearly agitated. Gingerly, Harry took hold of the bits of skin and peeled them off in short strips, setting them on the table when they came loose. Severus picked them up and put them in the box. In no time Harry had cleared the loose skin off of the snake's eyes and face and part of his neck below. _'Kind of hard to tell, he's almost all neck.'_

_[*Thanksss you, I can sssee better now.*]_ He lowered his head and started gnawing on the proffered gauntlet. Harry started to peel but soon discovered it was easier if he could roll it down Horatio's body like a stocking, thus getting rid of the skin and rubbing his itches at the same time.

"That's absolutely fascinating," Severus remarked, watching Horatio calm down a little, still chewing. "He likes it?"

_[*Oh yesss! That feelsss very good. You rubsss good, makesss the itching goesss away.*]_

Harry chuckled. "Oh yes, he's quite vocal about it. And don't forget, he understands everythin--" Harry stopped suddenly; the viselike grip on his upper arm was like the blood pressure cuffs he remembered from his childhood. "Damn, he's strong," he said as Severus tried to unwind Horatio's tail where it had wrapped around Harry, squeezing and flexing. _[*Horatio! My arm isss not a rat, pleassse letsss go.*]_

_[*Oopsss, sssorry. I gotsss carried away. It feelsss ssso good, the rubbing. Almossst like mating.*]_ The restless snake writhed, his coils tightening and loosening as he danced across Harry's lap and the arm of his chair.

At Severus' questioning eyes, Harry realised his shock and embarrassment must be showing. He smiled, ducking his head, "We really need to get him a girl snake. He says it feels like mating."

Severus smirked, "Makes me glad I'm not a snake then, if it takes _that_ kind of grip."

Harry started to reply about 'grips' but felt a bit of skin catch as it was not quite ready to peel. It came away reluctantly. _[*Ow!*]_ Horatio bit down hard on Harry's wrist; he could feel the pressure through the thick leather. _[*That hurtsss!*]_

_[*Sssorry about that. I'll try and watch it next time.*]_

"What happened?" Severus asked, concerned. "He almost bit clean through."

"I accidentally caught a bit of skin not quite ready to separate yet. He says it's tender. I can believe it; his new skin is incredibly warm and very soft and moist, like skin under a peeling sunburn. Perhaps a bit of lubricant might help?"

"It might. I have a very light formula that would warm and moisten your hands but not make you lose traction. It's also all-natural with very little magic, so it shouldn't hurt him when he absorbs it through his skin nor will it keep me from using the old skin later."

"Sounds good." Harry was relieved; the snake had already all but ruined the leather on the one side.

Severus summoned the bottle and poured a puddle in Harry's outstretched hand. Harry closed his eyes and let the sensations float through him as Severus firmly massaged the oil into each finger, his thumbs caressing the palm in long hard strokes as he spread the oil evenly. When the touch turned ticklish, Harry opened his eyes to find Severus trailing his finger tips across his palm, his eyes closed with a look of pure sensuality on his long face. Harry curled his fingers to capture Severus' hand and turning it over, swept his thumb lightly down the palm. Severus eyes flew open and for a brief instant they were connected by more than just their hands.

Horatio broke the moment by butting his head into Harry's wrist, tongue flickering. _[*There isss time enough for mating later on. I itchesss right now.*]_

Harry chuckled and gently pulled his hand away. He held out the second one saying, "Seems Horatio has my patience. Wants his itches scratched." With a small smirk, Severus smoothed the oil into his hand in a more business-like manner and Harry couldn't help but wish he'd treated this hand the way he'd done the first. When finished, Harry moved the snake back into position. "Feels like it's made of water but not quite," he said, rubbing his thumb and first two fingers together.

"It's a gel with some cactus juices in it as well as a touch of light oil similar to the one we use for massage." Harry blushed at that--Severus' full-body massages were not to be missed. And he knew it, too, if the little smile on his face was what Harry thought it was. "Poppy uses it for burns and other deep wounds to keep the bandages from sticking."

Horatio eyed them both. _[*What isss that?*]_ he asked suspiciously.

_[*Hopefully sssomething to make your ssskinsss lesss tender. Ssseverusss makesss it.*]_

_[*Oh. If the Massster madesss it, then it mussst be all right.*]_ He switched to the other gauntlet leaving the one he'd been gnawing sodden and glistening.

"Confident snake we have here, Sev. He's says he'll try it but only because you made it." Severus shook his head, bemused at the low hissing noises Horatio and Harry were making.

"He seems happier with it," he remarked.

Harry continued rolling the skin, the ring now almost as thick as his finger. He was almost half-way finished. _[*Oh, that isss ssso much better. Sssmoother. Fassster. I likesss it!*]_

"If you had any idea how erotic your snake is, Sev--we really must look into a female for him," he murmured, concentrating on the task at hand, trying to ignore the sensuous noises Horatio was making. It was starting to have its effect on him as well, but that was not something he wanted to deal with right now. "Like mating, indeed," he muttered.

"I'm not sure I could handle more of him," Severus replied wryly. "However, on further thought, the idea of whole families of Horatio's slithering through the hallways in search of rodents and terrorising the students has a definite appeal." His eyes glazed and he murmured, "McGonagall standing on a chair in hysterics. Dumbledore trying to herd the future generations away from his mice--" He got a gleam in his eye. "On the other hand, it could be interesting providing my bank account could handle the cost of their feed."

_[*OooOoo. Rightsss there. I havesss a bad itch.*]_ Harry rubbed the spot in question. _[*Hardersss! Oh yesss. Much better, thanksss.*]_

Harry shook his head, smiling at the question in Severus eyes, "You _don't_ want to know how appreciative he is." He continued to roll the skin, stopping to rub when Horatio asked him to. "Could be fun, Sev. I can hear the screams now--although we'd have to change the words to the song: 'Potions Master had a farm, e-i-e-i-o, with a hiss hiss here and a cluck cluck there, here a squeak, there a squeak, everywhere a squeak, squeak--'." He laughed hard. "Has some real potential, Sev."

Snape opened his mouth to speak but closed it almost as quickly. He wracked his brain for a suitable reply and remained silent, finding none scathing enough. Harry laughed even harder.

_[*What isss ssso funny, Harry?*]_ Horatio stopped chewing long enough to stare as only a snake can at his master. _[*Why doesss the Massster look like he ssswallowed a ssstoat?*]_

Harry pissed himself, his hands stopping a moment. _[*OooOooH! Do not ssstop. Itchesss mussst be ssscratched!*]_

"You're talking about me, I can tell," Severus mock-growled.

"Only in a _nice way_, Sev. Horatio wanted to know why you looked like you had indigestion." He just couldn't tell him what he really said--or could he? "Actually, he wanted to know if you'd 'swallowed a stoat'."

That did it. Severus threw his head back against the chair, gasping for breath as the silent laughter made his eyelids turn inside out from squeezing them too tight. Harry grinned at the sight. _[*Is the Massster all right? He looksss like he isss having troublesss breathing. Perhapsss you should helpsss him?*]_

"He wants to know if I should give you a respiration spell, Sev. He's worried about your breathing." Severus pointed at him helplessly, holding his sides. _[*He isss all right. He isss jussst laughing.*]_

Horatio disengaged from the gauntlet and peered at Severus, slithering until he was extended over the arm of his chair with Harry anchoring him on his lap. He bobbed a bit and then came back. _[*The Massster never laughsss. Are you sssure? He isss very quiet isss he not? Isss hisss faccce sssupposssed to be that colour?*]_ Harry reassured him with a chortle of his own and Horatio went back to the soggy gauntlet, happy to be rubbed.

Eventually Severus calmed down to loose chuckles every now and again. He replenished the oil on Harry's hands a few times when they got dry until Harry reached the tip of Horatio's tail and pulled away the orange-sized wad of old snake skin.

"That's a lot of skin," Severus said, eyeing the ball before he flattened it and put it in the box.

"That's a lot of snake," Harry replied, his hands and arms tired.

_[*You looksss tired. I am tired. It feelsss good to have the ssskin gone ssso quickly. Let me thanksss you,*]_ Horatio hissed.

_[*Thank me? How?*]_ Harry was confused and it showed.

_[*Takesss off the wrissst thingsss and givesss me your handsss and armsss.*]_ Horatio was 'standing', his face inches from Harry's.

As Harry removed the gauntlets, Severus asked him, "What now?"

Harry shrugged, "I have no idea, but I suspect I am about to find out. He wants to thank me." Severus took the leathers from him and, with a small smile, cleaned and repaired them with two simple spells. He went to the mantel, replaced the daggers, and sailed it back to Harry's wardrobe. Sitting in his chair, he lounged back, curious as to how a snake thanked someone. 

His arms free of the leather, Harry laid them loosely in his lap. Horatio nudged his upper arm and when Harry lifted it, he slid under it and started coiling himself tightly around his arm, looking like a snake spring as he slithered down its length, wrapping his body even around his hands. He travelled his whole length this way while Harry sighed in pleasure, his eyes closed. "Oh, it's just like a massage. I never thought about how he slithers, but just his movement feels so good." When his tail was almost at his hand, he lifted up and started on the other arm, winding his way down.

_[*Knew it hurtsss. You have ssstrong handsss. There isss a lot of me. Isss that better? No more hurtsss?*]_ Horatio asked when finished and was back on his lap, his head at eye level.

_[*All better. Thanksss.*]_ He stroked the top of his head and ran his fingers down his belly. Horatio lightly bit his fingers and moved away.

_[*Stopsss that. It ticklesss.*]_ Harry could swear he was laughing as he slid off his lap and bridging the distance, climbed onto Severus across the chairs. He wound around his arm once and faced him, his black eyes bright and laughing, his tongue flicking out and hitting him in the nose. _[*I likesss him. Are you going to keepsss him?*]_ Horatio turned his head and fixed his eyes on Harry and then looked back at Severus.

Severus obviously didn't a translator for this. "Yes, Horatio. He's a keeper."

Horatio bobbed once and then slid off his lap, going back to his rooms humming a happy snake song.

"Actually, I'm a Seeker--you really ought to pay better attention, Sev."

Severus reached over, smiling and covered Harry's hand on the arm of the chair, his fingers soothing across the back of it, his eyes never leaving his face.

Harry didn't need a translator either.


	22. Part II A Decision is Made

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

+ + + +

_*Edited for FF.net--just a little--676 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.  
  
Mea Culpa if this is racier than an "R", but this is not a "fluff" chapter; there are some things happening essential to the rest of the book. I also apologise if it "feels" choppy, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, the full version is available at my site._

+ + + +

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Twenty Two : A Decision is Made**

**10 October 1999**

Harry could never remember when a kiss was just a kiss and right now his whole body was screaming at him for release. Severus' kisses were a drug to which he was addicted, his agile tongue and burning mouth left trails of desire, searing their way through every nerve cell. And not just his mouth. His hands. Those long, nimble hands, the talented fingers of which stroked and caressed their way around him, mapping every square inch with pleasure.

He didn't know what key he'd given to Severus tonight to unlock the passion he'd been holding back the last few weeks; he just knew he was ready. Now. No Fear. No Barriers. No tremours. Just. Ready.

Severus, on the other hand, was lost. His body had a mind of its own and it was using every skill it had ever known to pleasure Harry. The feel of his skin, the taste of it, the sounds, the gasps, the surprise all left him breathless, wanting more. Harry's response--his eager, uninhibited response drove him to lengths he'd never felt necessary before now. 

Now. He wanted him now.

Without a word, he passed Harry the jar. They both knew what it was for and Severus felt his heart stop when Harry took it from him, their hands meeting, the current a sharp arc between them like two live wires making contact without any shielding. They sizzled, their skin jumping, every nerve exposed.

Severus had never felt this needy before. Never had the blind necessity to be this close with someone and yet in the back of his mind he was scared. But the fear was part of it; the sharp thrill of letting go, of feeling without thought was as much of an aphrodisiac as watching Harry's green eyes turn black with his desire. For him. And that desire scared him most of all.

Harry was inexperienced with this; he had only done it a couple of times before, but Severus was adamant; it was too soon for him to do it the way he was used to (if he was going to do it at all) even if he was healed. Harry had never really enjoyed being taken by Draco, finding the experience initially uncomfortable, not only physically but in his mind as well; the submission Draco demanded had been hard to give. However, if this was what Severus wanted--

He wanted? Oh yes, Harry wanted, maybe not this but the closeness? Oh Yes. He wanted to be close. Severus groaned into Harry's mouth, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as Harry teased him.

Severus was so hot, so ready.

Harry dropped his hand lower--the sharp intake of breath, sucking the air out of him through their joined mouths, was his prize for the pleasure given. He wanted more and sliding his hand lower found almost immediately the sweet spot. Severus gasped, his mouth torn away, his inability to continue the kiss its own delectable reward.

Not too long afterward, Harry met some resistance. Severus was not relaxed now, the previous gasps of pleasure more that of controlled discomfort than desire. He could feel inflexible cords--old but obviously still bothering him. _'Who did this to you? Who hurt you so badly'_ he thought, having no hard facts but much conjecture. Looking at Severus' closed eyes trying not to wince, he saw the look of concentration where once had been abandon--Harry wondered, _'What do you really want, Severus? Do you really want this?'_

Severus had known what Harry would find. His only hope was he could control it, that Harry would be inexperienced enough to not notice the tightness and scarring brought about by other, less pleasant encounters. It had been so long since someone had taken him; the trust involved was more than he could normally give. But not tonight. His trust was absolute; he _knew_ Harry would not hurt him if he could help it--any more than he would cause Harry harm. And it did hurt--his body's fault, not Harry's--he was being incredibly gentle. 

He tried to relax, half-knowing it would not be enough. He felt the heat of Harry's considering eyes on him--opening his own, he tried not to look away but was unsuccessful. Harry was demanding honesty from him, a truth he felt uncomfortable giving to him. _'No, I really don't want it this way, but I don't want to lose you either--'_ Severus felt the discomfort dissolve as Harry withdrew and heard the murmured cleaning spells with a relief he could not articulate since he barely understood it himself.

Harry sat up and moving over him, straddled his hips. He bent forward, arms supporting his weight, his eyes a few inches away, questioning, boring into Severus' black eyes, defying him to lie about his readiness. He received the impression of complete trust before those eyes ultimately closed on their other truth. Harry knew in that instant: Severus' surrender to him in this way was more a result of his desire to please Harry and less of his desire to be taken this way.

Which was fine with Harry.

Severus closed his eyes, his heart pounding with cold dread, his body tense. He flogged himself with self-condemnation. _'You're such a damn fool! Can't top--he's half-healed and his memories are too fresh. He was ready, eager to take you, and you let him stop. You're going to lose him because you can't overcome your fear of past pain and domination. He'll leave you now--what man would stay with such a coward?'_ He startled, therefore, when Harry shifted further forward, the unexpected soft brush of his lips turning into something more _needy_. The darting tongue telling him, in no uncertain terms, that he was still desired and still wanted even if not in this other way. Incredulous and maybe a little grateful, Severus relaxed a bit, opening his eyes. The concerned, tender look on Harry's face made him feel warmer inside. Maybe, just maybe, it would be all right.

"Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Harry asked Severus quietly, his eyes quickly searching his face. He waved his hand and the candles brightened a bit so he could really _see_ him.

Severus considered the question, "I'm fine, I think. More than fine, if you're all right with it."

"Sev, I think we need to talk." Harry was startled by the wariness he instantly saw in Severus' eyes and hastily reassured him, "No, Sev, nothing bad. I just think we need to air some things. Speak plainly. I want to make sure I understand where we are before we go any further." Hearing himself and his seriousness, he waggled his brows, "Right sexy, huh?" 

Severus couldn't help it, he laughed. "Definitely. I can always get a leg over your scintillating conversation," he said, feeling somewhat better.

Harry smiled despite the gravity he was feeling. "Tell me if I'm wrong, but you just greeted the idea of me topping you with the same excitement you might exhibit getting hit by a flying cauldron."

Seeming to catch Harry's mood more than his words, he smiled nervously. "Actually, a cauldron to the gut might, initially, be more pleasant," he replied. "And you?"

"Well, I'm pretty much healed, now." Harry lowered his eyes, looking sideways, "I mean, we could if you want to--"

"No!" Severus exclaimed. He raised his hand to Harry's cheek as if to take the sting out of his cry, running the fingers down to his throat; Harry knew Severus could feel the strong rapid pulse beneath his warm skin. Severus' earnestness was shining in his eyes. "No, Harry. I don't want."

"Why not?" Harry asked, perplexed by his vehement reaction and a little hurt by the implied rejection.

"Your--I can't--" Severus drew a deep breath, thinking, _'Damned honesty, you're going to make me tell you, aren't you?'_ Knowing he had to give a full explanation or none at all, he replied as gently as he could, "Harry, you've been having nightmares almost every night since the first night we've been together. You fight me off like a man possessed. You dream of Draco and what he did to you." He hesitated, his voice troubled, "You talk, you yell. You paint a very clear picture of what it was like, what you hated."

Severus regretted the bluntness of his last words the moment they left his mouth. Harry paled and shuddered, his eyes glazing in stark memory. Severus closed his eyes, haunted by the expression on Harry's face, and he heard himself asking him, "Did you _ever_ enjoy it, Harry? Either way?"

"It had its moments, I'd be lying if I said otherwise, but by and large no, I didn't enjoy being a bottom." He was amazed it had come out so easy. _'There, I've said it and the world is still revolving. Fancy that.'_

_'I think the only thing I dislike more than doing it is talking about it,'_ they both thought.

"I can think of better ways to pleasure you," he trailed his hands up Severus' sides, pleased by his involuntary shiver and the stippling of his skin. "While I don't want to bottom, I don't particularly want to top either." With another shudder he remembered the way Severus' face had grimaced as he'd prepared him. Understanding lit Severus' eyes as Harry continued, "I was willing to do so to please you--it was more a question of your preferences."

"No, it's not my preference. I don't enjoy taking it up the arse, Harry, and haven't done so in years, or at least not by choice. Like you, I have bad memories." 

"Seems we both do. Sex isn't supposed to be about pain or doing things you hate, even if it pleases your partner. I learned that, if nothing else, from Draco. You were _not_ enjoying yourself; I want to be your lover, not your tormentor."

"I'd like that very much, to be your lover," Severus whispered, reaching up to capture his lips in a brief kiss. "Anything else squidgey I should know about?" he asked lightly, the heated glint back in his eyes.

"Bondage," Harry replied immediately. "I hate bondage in any form, especially the hardware." Harry trailed his hands down Severus' torso. "They only thing I want hard is--" Harry gave Severus a wicked glance to match the small curl of his lips.

Severus gasped a little; the sensation was so strong. "I guess this means I have to retire the iron maiden?" Harry hit him in the arm, hard. "Ow! What's the point of living in a dungeon if you can't--"

"Don't go there, Sev." Harry admonished with a mock-growl.

Severus smirked, "All right, all right, I get the picture. Iron maiden, out. I'll notify the house-elves on the morrow to clear out the back torture chambers." Harry chuckled briefly, appreciating Severus' attempts at levity and wondered why it had taken him until this moment to finally realise that Severus employed his dark humour as a shield whenever he was uncomfortable with his situation.

Suddenly serious again, Harry ventured, "Just so we can drop this, please. We're agreed? Unless we _both_ want it--"

"--we don't do it. And we ask, not assume." Severus replied equally resolved. He threaded his hand through Harry's unruly hair and met him in the middle. Their kiss sealed their new covenant.

They shifted to lay side by side, their bodies pressed close together as Harry deepened the kiss. Hands roaming and stroking elicited low groans from both of them, the other unpleasantness laid behind them, as they concentrated instead on the pleasure spiralling through heated bodies. They freely explored each other, the earlier restraint gone, their mutual understanding stripping the hesitancy out of their passion. They were soon lost in the feel of each other.

Harry wanted Severus so much, wanted to feel them close together, to feel his _heat_. He sat up and, rolling Severus gently on his back, lightly straddled his thighs. He reached over and picked up the abandoned jar of lubricant. Taking another handful of the thick gel, he distributed it over his hands evenly. He chuckled at Severus' gasp as he touched him.

Severus' eyes popped open--the heat from Harry's hands made him bow up into them. It lit a fire deep in his belly that soon centered on the flesh in Harry's hands. He gave a moan of frustration when those hands left off their ministration and slid up his torso leaving a trail of sensation as he slicked them flat up Severus' abdomen right up to the bottom of his rib cage. He ran his fingers lightly back down, Severus squirming under him with the prickles Harry inadvertently gave him; Harry was the first lover to ever find out he was ticklish. _'My lover. Harry is my lover,'_ he thought, with immense satisfaction, as Harry sat back.

Harry filed away the discovery for the future with a smile. He fumbled for the jar and removing the lid with some difficulty, given the oiliness of his hands, invited Severus to take some. Harry continued to stroke him lightly, while Severus sat up and took the jar from his hand and pushing him back into the bed, showed him the joys of reciprocity. 

"Like that do you?" Severus murmured, his concentration complete.

"Oh gods," Harry cried as the sensations rippled through him, stealing his air. "So good," he murmured, closing his eyes. He felt Severus' arms cover his upper legs, effectively pinning him to the bed. He was about to protest when he heard an evil chuckle and his body exploded into sharp shards. Severus smiled at the helpless mewling noises Harry was making.

Severus grinned at the cry of disappointment Harry made when he moved up Harry's body with a wanton mouth, letting his body's skin lightly stroke him the entire way up. Before taking his mouth he murmured, "I so admire a man with a 'Cavalier' attitude about sex."

Harry growled and rolled them over never breaking the kiss. He pulled away, gasping, "Merlin--your mouth--gods," and evaded Severus' attempts to pull him down for another one by sitting back on his knees. Hearing a sigh and not looking up, he half expected the arm around his shoulder, the lips suckling his neck, the soft hair sliding down his arm as his hands were joined by Severus' oily ones--he was soon as slick as Severus, his breath coming out in huffs.

He was so close. Not wanting to come too soon, Harry pulled Severus' tormenting hands away, kissing them before placing them on his waist. Startled, he explored his lips with his tongue, tasting a lingering sweetness like raw honey. Curious, he leaned over and licked Severus' lips with the tip of his tongue like an ice cream cone and realised he was tasting the lube. Severus raised a brow at this and Harry murmured, "Interesting flavour. Honey?"

Severus threaded his hands in his hair and pulled him over for another kiss, his tongue sliding in, teasing Harry's. Harry groaned and Severus withdrew, whispering, "Clover, white clover nectar in the oil."

Harry kissed him again, lapping his tongue. "Attracts bees," Harry said, gently pushing him back into the bed on his back, "and Potions Masters." He could feel Severus' light chuckle rumble through him as he settled between his lover's legs and slid one of his hands under Severus' waist to the small of his back to grasp him tightly to him, the movement lifting Severus slightly off the bed, the other holding his upper body a few scant inches off of him. The air between them heated. He gasped at the intensity.

Severus was stunned by the comfortable closeness and the heat of the two of them. He reached around and pulled Harry down to him, relishing his weight, his arms tightening around Harry's slender waist and his broader shoulders. Lifting his face, begging for more kisses, Harry curled his arm over Severus' head--the fingers playing in his hair. Severus responded to Harry's unspoken request and, meeting him halfway, brought Harry's mouth down in a searing kiss, tongues dancing, mating, sliding languidly in time to the movements of their bodies below.

Harry moved slowly, setting the pace. Severus groaned, moving up, and then gasped, each heated touch earning him another intake of breath from his lover.

_'My lover. Severus is my lover, mine to protect, mine to pleasure.'_ He was the taker of a complete trust he never expected to receive; nor was he sure he deserved it, but he knew his trust was received with the same fervor.

They were not the recipients tonight, nor the givers. They met as equals--an unusual, heady experience for them both. They kept the pace slow, knowing that for now, nothing more was needed. It would be tortuous, it would take forever, it would be glorious. Harry dipped his head down and stole another long, searching kiss; Severus again taking his breath with every undulation of his hips.

Harry was not exactly coherent himself. He hissed his pleasure when Severus wrapped his long legs behind his thighs, pulling him in even closer. Their bodies took over thought, creeping ever closer to the edge they both so desperately sought.

Arms and legs grasped him tightly as with an inarticulate cry, Severus climaxed, arched into Harry, his face pure poetry. His clenching hands, digging furrows in Harry's back on a hard thrust was his undoing and his own straining, exquisite release filled the space between them. Spent, they relaxed in the boneless aftermath. Harry rested his forehead on Severus' shoulder as he caught his breath enough to move away.

Separating, another small death. They rolled on their sides facing each other. Harry's eyes and hands searched Severus' face almost immediately. _'Have I pleased you enough?'_

Severus told him with his eyes, _I'm more than fine. I want to be close again._ Their arms, without thought, wrapped loosely around each other.

Harry sighed and grinned, "Well, that was a bit of all right."

A chuckle against his shoulder followed by a nip of hot wet lips was his response.

Small movements marked the ending of their current passion and the beginning of their lifetime relationship. Short strokes of tired hands, small touches of sated lips. Severus pulled him close. Without effort, Harry's head found the niche on Severus' shoulder made only for him. Hands found now familiar waists, legs found tangled comfort, and the heavy, mutual sighs of satiation soon became the soft, steady breathing of dreamless sleep as both drifted off.


	23. Part II Into the Light

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Twenty Three : Into the Light**

**11 October 1999**

The next morning Severus woke first, as he always did. He was sore in spots he hadn't even known existed, but it was a good sore. And he was puzzled. _'I don't remember going to sleep this way,'_ he thought, feeling Harry curled behind him, one arm thrown possessively across his waist, his soft snores wafting moist air down his back where his head rested. _'Odd. I have no memory of changing. We go to sleep every night in the same position but wake up like this.'_ He mentally shook his head surprised he'd given it any thought at all.

He gently wormed his way out of the bed, careful to not wake Harry. _'I don't know why I bother. If nothing else, I have found he sleeps so soundly in the morning, an exploding cauldron would only make him turn over.'_ Once out of bed, he padded naked over to the wardrobe and pulled on his dressing gown against the slight chill of the room, still semi-dark with the curtains drawn. He looked back at the bed's lone occupant, who had already stolen his pillow and was holding it against him. Severus wanted to go back, to lose himself again, but his comfort level was too low to do so; there were some things better left away from the light of day and one of them was his body.

He made his way to the bathroom, his bladder about to explode. As he relieved it, he debated, _'Shower or bath?'_ Normally there was no decision to make, but he was so stiff, the act of standing had become one of exquisite torture as muscles long unused protested his early movement. _'Definitely a short bath. Maybe it will work the kinks out.'_ His stomach rumbled. _'Then food. With the school reopening in only a few months, Dumbledore and I have some heavy work to do this morning.'_

The one thing making his former dungeon rooms more than tolerable was his bath. This new one was no different. Fed by underground hot springs, it was wide and deep, almost a bathing pool. The water was always hot and free-running and full of minerals, but thankfully free of sulphur and its smell of rotten eggs. Despite the grey stone walls, an off-center skylight gave the room, on sunny days, a cheery brightness as did the small windows, which were spelled against the steam, so there was always a view looking out over the moors.

Over the years, he'd collected from Professor Sprout a variety of plants well suited to an equatorial clime, and so his bath resembled nothing less than a wild tropical garden with a steaming pool in the middle. Off to the side, just past the seating ledge, was a thick tatami mat on the stone floor where he would sometimes lie after his bath to cool down before going back to his quarters.

He opened the sealed door and green-smelling steam poured out, misting his skin with instant hot moisture. Before he could close the door, he felt Horatio at his feet eagerly slithering into the room, his long thick body extremely comfortable in the hot, humid place. He closed the door once the striped tail cleared it and the snake, hissing his pleasure, headed directly for the underfoliage of the plants where he would hide and bask in the heat by the water or a sunspot if he could find it.

Severus hung the dressing gown on a hook by the door and walked down the smooth stone steps into the thermal waters. He hitched a breath as he submerged, the heat searing his sore spots more than he'd expected. 

If he stood in the middle, the clear water was up to his neck, the fairly strong current from the fresh water intake swirling across his chest. He walked along the bottom to the far side where there was a ledge he could sit on so that only his head showed over of the surface. He could somewhat control the temperature by where he sat on the shelf; one end was very close to the source making it very hot indeed, the other side had cooled enough to be tolerable for long soaks. Until Harry had come into his life, he'd come to his bath every night to let the steam open his pores and remove from him the stink of the potions and the residual protectants he used on hair and skin.

This morning he sat in the middle. He emptied his head of thoughts, tipping it back to lay on the curved edge of the pool, feeling the hot, running water loosen the knots in his body. He would wash up in just a moment but this just felt too good to move just yet.

****

After Harry came fully awake, which for him took a few minutes, he pounded the pillow he was holding in aroused frustration. _'Of all the mornings for Severus to already be up and about--damn! I'd hoped he would still be here. We're going to have to do something about this 'leaving-before-there's-enough-light-in-the-room-for-me-to-see-him' habit.'_

Harry knew _why_ Severus was gone, but not why he felt the necessity to do so. It had nothing to do with him, per se, and everything to do with the scars Harry could feel but still had never seen except in small stolen glimpses--and always, those were of the ones on the front, never the ones on his back. Severus took great care in making sure he was well covered in the day and would often wait until Harry was in bed with the lights turned down or off before disrobing for bed. At first he'd thought it was because Severus was trying to make his physical presence more tolerable for Harry, given the way he reacted to any touch; he'd been easily startled and, at the time, he'd been surprised and appreciative of Severus' consideration of his feelings and lingering fears.

However, as the weeks had progressed and Harry grew more comfortable with Severus, he began to question his earlier assumption. Even on the odd occasions when he'd awakened behind Severus, the room was always too dark for him to see anything, although his hands, the few times they'd ventured there on their first night together, had told him the scars were horrible. He'd never got another chance to touch them again until last night and that in itself was telling. Severus had been too consumed with his own passion to notice the few times Harry's hands had strayed to the forbidden places and Harry had instinctively made sure Severus' back was to the bed when they'd made love.

It had become clear to him last week what the problem was, when he'd inadvertently tried to kiss them upon awakening. Sometime in that night he'd snuggled close to Severus and had roused all tangled up with him, his arms wrapped snug around Severus' waist. It had seemed so natural to nuzzle Severus on his nape and Harry had liked the sleepy, muzzy response he'd got, but he'd no more touched his lips to Severus' back when the man had jerked awake and away in what Harry could only call a controlled retreat. As tangled in the bedclothes as Severus had been, he'd still deftly redirected Harry's attention elsewhere by maneuvering himself firmly onto his back and kissing Harry soundly. It hadn't led anywhere because Harry, without conscious thought at the time, knew the pounding of Severus heart under his hand had been more a product of Severus' fears than of arousal.

He'd thought about it in the ensuing time until day before yesterday he'd finally asked Severus what the problem was; he'd known he was on the right track when Severus had all but snarled at him to mind his own affairs. Harry had not taken offense at his harsh words; again he didn't know how he knew, but he'd sensed Severus' defensive reaction had been one of deep shame and embarrassment. Harry shrugged to himself. _'I've been sharing his bed for several weeks now and I'm still clueless as to_ why _he feels the need to hide his body. Well, not exactly--I am sure his evasion has something to do with the scars--he hates me touching them. I just don't know if it's because of the way they look or if he's afraid I'll want to know where he got them. As if I couldn't make an accurate guess.'_

He rolled out of bed and, putting on his spectacles, made his way to the loo. He was about to enter the shower when he felt the change in humidity coming from outside the room. Curious, he walked out of the bathroom, into the closet, and down a tiny hallway he'd not noticed before. The farther he travelled down it, the more humid it became until he came to a thick, closed door. Gingerly opening it a fraction, his eye close to the crack, he was unprepared for the burst of steam rushing to his face instantly fogging his lenses.

He opened the door wider and slipped in, letting it close silently behind him, amazed at this new world he'd stepped into. He paused and, spying Severus' dressing gown hanging by the door, he wiped his spectacles free of the obscuring condensation while breathing in deeply the clean, fresh, 'green' smell of the place. Putting them back on, he looked around him. _'Where the hell did all this come from?'_ he thought, already starting to sweat from the temperature. But it was also loosening him up; he was a bit sore this morning. He chuckled quietly. _'And so evidently was Severus.'_ He spied him on the far side of the pool.

Since he'd worn nothing to the loo, there was nothing to take off, and he cautiously stepped into the bath. _'Merlin, that's hot!'_ The beads of sweat ran down his face. He spotted his quarry, still unaware of his presence, head thrown back against the side exposing a long pale expanse of throat Harry longed to lick. He swam silently across the pool, feeling the current underneath him, and when he came even with Severus he put his hands on either side of him and slid his body up out of the water, placing a wet open mouth kiss on the "V" at the salty base of his outstretched throat.

Severus startled and with a mighty push, flung Harry back into the water. Shocked, Harry flew far and landed on his back with a huge splash and then sunk down to the bottom. Getting his feet under him, he pushed up at an angle and surfaced; he had only a fleeting glimpse of Severus gasping for air, a wild look in his eyes as he scrambled to get out of the bath. Harry, his momentum carrying him forward, lunged at him, thinking, _'Well, that was a bit unexpected. Lesson one, don't sneak up on Snape.'_ He managed to grab Severus' wrist before he could completely make it out of the water, causing him to slip slightly on the curved edge.

That was his second mistake of the morning. _'Lesson two, don't grab Snape.'_ Severus' eyes turned angry, his other hand breaking Harry's grip, and in one fluid movement he was up and out of the water, chest heaving, his body poised to flee. "Leave me be. Just leave me--alone," he gasped. "Please." A plea.

"NO! Damn it, Severus, stop. Just. Stop. Don't go away. I don't understand. Help me to understand." Harry was panting, kneeling on the ledge, the wet heated air filling his lungs making them wheeze. Severus stood there, his hands loose at his sides, his body defiant with an indefinable look in his black eyes. His head tilted up challengingly. 

_'Merlin, he's magnificent!'_

Harry climbed out of the pool to stand before him. He reached up and held Severus' cheek, who flinched, closing his eyes. Determined, Harry held it there and kissed his closed, unresponsive mouth whispering, "I'm sorry I startled you, I was just playing." Severus opened his eyes, wary in the light, his face taut with tension. Harry continued, ignoring for a moment Severus' discomfort; he _knew_ they needed to resolve this. "I know you don't want me to see you. But I don't understand."

Harry noted the slight release of tension in the lines around Severus' mouth and decided to press his advantage. "Why, Severus? You trusted me last night with far more than the mere _sight_ of your body. I saw how much of it you were willing to give to me--a precious gift I never earned--one I will never forget. I just don't understand. Why are you so skittish now? What do I have to do to show you how much I need you? As you are." 

Harry kissed him again and felt a small response. Taking Severus face in his hands, his thumbs caressing his cheeks, he continued, "It's only a shell, Sev, a flawed container for what lies within. One may admire it the same way one admires a pretty bottle for a potion, but we both know what's really important, don't we? It's what's inside the bottle."

He stood close to him, their bodies almost touching and ran his hands down Severus' arms first, feeling the ridged scars covering their length. Harry loosely held Severus' wrist noting the smoother skin there from where he'd healed it over three years before. Bringing it to his mouth, he gently kissed the pale skin, running the tip of his tongue over the fine white lines. Severus made a noise of protest and tried to pull it away, but Harry firmed his grip and said gently, "No, Severus. Please let me do this. Please let me _show_ you how little I care about how the bottle looks." He watched carefully and was heartened when he saw the barely perceptible nod of acquiescence.

He pulled him down onto the mat by the pool, leaving his glasses on as a subtle reminder to Severus that he wanted to see. Starting with a kiss, area by area, he traversed Severus' body. Each time he encountered the scars, he would feel Severus tense as he'd done before and he would gentle him with hands and mouth and tongue until he felt him relax before he moved on to the next set. Chest, arms, torso, and legs--all quarters were covered. Neither one of them was much aroused; it was too traumatic, but Harry could feel Severus loosen with each kiss, each caress--his trust in him was growing.

_'Lesson three, never assume that one trust leads, automatically, to another.'_ He was earning this one inch by inch.

He had only his back left to explore, the area he knew would be the most difficult for Severus to take. If his hands in the dark had told the truth, it would be horrific. He coaxed a reluctant Severus onto his stomach and as his back was exposed to the revealing sunlight, Harry's eyes widened in shock and he sucked in a breath in a long involuntary hiss. At the sound, Severus hid his face in his arms, his shoulders sagging. 

Harry had noted some jars on a shelf an arm's length above him. One looked familiar and he reached up and pulled it from the shelf. He was right--it was the lubricant they'd used before, only a little thinner, with a subtle, smoky, woodsy scent added to it. He opened the jar and straddled Severus thighs, feeling him tense from the unexpected move and weight. Harry leaned down and moving his hair to the side, kissed his nape whispering, "Shh, it'll be all right. I won't hurt you, Sev, I promise."

With a generous amount of the lubricant on his hands, he smoothed them over Severus' back, kneading the tortured flesh, the skin liberally criss-crossed with dark red, heavy, ropy scars. He was not conscious of the tingling through the scar on his forehead or the sub-vocalised _Sanos_ spell warming his hands, pulling the remembered pain from the whitening scars, still visible but thinning, flattening. The skin became smooth and supple wherever his hands and magic touched. He took his time, stripe by stripe, using his palms, thumbs, and finger tips to erase each and every mark. Drawing from the skin and Severus' very soul, he pulled and discarded the shackled memories of long, steel-tipped whips and cutting knives wielded in anger and hate. 

Severus moaned; Harry could feel him gradually relaxing. He knew Severus was oblivious to the tones of his magic, knew he was making him feel good, maybe for the first time in years. And when Severus totally relaxed under his loving hands, Harry felt like he'd been given something precious--Severus' peace and centered calmness. Harry murmured as he continued kneading his back, his slick hands gentle and hot but firm. "Were you afraid I'd laugh, that I would find you any less desirable than last night or any other night before? Or were you afraid I would think the hurts inside worse than the ones outside and leave? Are your scars any worse than my own? You at least earned yours. I did nothing but exist."

He dug his thumbs hard into a knot his words had caused, getting a grunt of pain from Severus. He laughed lightly, "Did you truly think I would be so easy to get rid of?" He smoothed his hands over the now relaxed bits of his back, "Am I so shallow? Did you distrust yourself and your judgement so? What made you apprehensive, Severus?"

Harry continued his way down his back, shifting his weight as he moved his hands lower, now caressing Severus' buttocks. "I don't know what I was afraid of. I don't remember. Seems silly now," Severus said ruefully on a sigh.

His hands never stopping, Harry replied, the smile showing in his voice, "You'll have to teach me how to do that someday--make my fears silly, that is. I've never quite mastered the art. Usually they just scare me silly." Finished, he lightly trailed his fingertips up Severus' spine, enjoying the shiver running down the length of his body. "You scared me spitless this morning, Sev. _Please_ don't ever run away again; don't shut me out. We can get through this, through anything, together. I learned that from you." 

He continued tracing his fingertips upward, burying them in his hair. While leaning down, he inhaled deeply the smoky scent of the oil he'd used. He lifted Severus' long hair and planted a lingering kiss to his neck, his tongue tasting the bitterness of the oil mingled with the salty sweetness of Severus' skin. "You are _such_ a pleasure to touch," he murmured, his hands sliding down Severus' arms.

He felt the tightening and, given the way he was pressing securely into the warm oiled cleft of the older man, he was sure Severus could feel his need too.

Severus made an effort to roll over and Harry lifted enough for him to do so. He settled back down on Severus' thighs. His hands smoothed over his chest and Severus took his hands, pulling him down to him, their eyes holding and speaking volumes. Severus held him, his arms wrapped tightly around the beautiful young body given to him so freely. Harry laid his head on the shoulder offered and they stayed like this for a long while, Severus gratefully accepting his weight.

Eventually they broke apart, both a little awkward, their desire plainly evident as lips met in the middle, tongues stoking a slow fire. Harry pulled away and with a mischievous smile asked, "How about finishing that bath, Sev?"

"I think that's an excellent idea, _Mr_. Potter." Severus said hiding his smile in a twist of lips.

Harry got up in one fluid movement and grinned when Severus muttered "Show-off" as he sat up and taking Harry's proffered hand, got to his feet a little slower, a little less gracefully, his joints cracking from being still for so long despite the massage.

"Come on, old man. Last one in's a rotten egg." He laughed at the outraged expression on Snape's face.

Severus beat him into the water. They both gasped at the heat. Then they bathed; it involved a lot of splashing and wet sliding skin.

****

When Snape failed to show up to their work area on the south tower that morning after breakfast, Dumbledore gave a secret, knowing smile to himself even as he shrugged to the Mason helping him set the repaired stones. Severus would never know Albus had been insufferably cheerful, his eyes twinkling the whole morning while whistling a song about 'rub-a-dub-dub, two men in a tub' as they rebuilt the wall without him.


	24. Part II The Mastery of Secrets

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part II : Harry and Severus  
**Chapter Twenty Four : The Mastery of Secrets**

**19 June 2003**

Harry realized it was already early afternoon when his stomach started rumbling, reminding him he'd missed breakfast and was well on his way to missing lunch as well. He ignored it, knowing he needed this time to think, to put it together if he was going to do anything about his situation with Severus. So far all he'd been able to do was depress himself with the memories of _why_ he loved Severus so much. He was no closer to having a solution in hand than he was this morning. His secrets were eating a hole in his life, one he desperately needed to fill.

* * *

**August 2001**

Like all secrets are wont to do, the first one began innocently enough and snuck up on him two years after he'd started school and two years before he should have finished. Harry completed his degree, with honours, in the Healing Arts. All the years of work with Albus, Remus, and Severus before he'd finished Hogwarts as well as his apprenticeship with Madame Pomfrey had paid off. Able to skip out of some of his course work and test out of others, he was deemed ready to either practice as a generalist or continue on for his Mastery as a Specialist. His Professor/Advisor had urged him to continue on immediately with his Mastery. He believed he needed the break, and so had told his Tutor he would return in the winter only a few months away. She'd not been pleased but told him to contact her should he ever change his mind.

He'd gone straight home, excited. He couldn't wait to tell Severus and spent a restless afternoon waiting for him to finish classes so he could give him the good news. While he waited, he made a list of places he would go to seek an apprenticeship. He was sure Madame Pomfrey would help him; there was not much use for his new skills at Hogwarts, unfortunately, and it was time to move on.

At the bell, he left their quarters to meet Severus as he was leaving class. Dumbledore met him along the way.

"Ah, Harry! Just the person I was looking for. We're having a special staff meeting in a few minutes. I've already sent Severus on his way. If you would be so good as to join us?"

"Certainly, Albus," Harry said, a little deflated but curious. He hadn't been to a staff meeting in years, the last one being after the fall of Voldemort when they'd divvied up the clean-up details. They walked in companionable silence until they reached the door to the second floor staff room. Looking around, Harry realised they were the last to arrive.

Albus stepped to the front of the room with the assignment board behind him. He raised his hands for silence. "I have a special announcement to make. I just received word this afternoon that our very own Professor Severus Snape has been published in "The Potions Quarterly" for his work on Wolfsbane and Restorative Potions. As you all know, this is a prestigious publication edited by our own Hermione Weasley and a distinct honour for our Potions Master. Copies of the paper are in each of your boxes. Please join me when I say well done, Severus, and congratulations for all your hard work."

A chorus of 'hear-hear's' and 'well-done's' were heard amidst the enthusiastic applause. Severus looked stunned. Harry was pleased and genuinely happy for his lover. When the crowd thinned, he approached him shyly and gave him a rare public embrace and a kiss on his cheek. "Sev, I'm so happy for you. You've worked so hard for years; it's about time you finally receive the recognition you so richly deserve," he'd said, meaning it.

Severus put his arm around his shoulder with a squeeze. "Praise indeed from someone with no bias whatsoever," he said with a wry chuckle. Harry felt good about the whole thing and forgot about his own news until long after they'd gone to bed and made love in celebration. Severus had been asleep and he decided a delay wouldn't hurt anything. He wanted Severus to have this rare moment in the sunlight.

The next day Severus had risen before him and Harry whiled away the morning reading the newly published potions paper while Severus was in classes. It was brilliant, well organised, and clearly the work of a master; it made him feel woefully inadequate as he didn't understand half of it. He felt stupid and incompetent--quite an imbecilic reaction when he thought of it now, but at the time he'd not had the confidence he did today.

When Severus had seen he'd read the article, he asked for Harry's opinion as if it had mattered, but Harry interpreted it as a subtle Severus-way of showing him up. He knew he'd disappointed Severus when he refused to discuss it in depth, but he just couldn't let him know how stupid he was. And again he'd held off telling him about his schooling--his recent accomplishments, even with honours, seemed pale compared to Severus'. He very much wanted to feel equal with his lover.

And to make it worse, he'd gone and compounded one error with an even bigger one. For in his impatience to gain the equal acceptance of his lover, Harry moved into the second phase of his education--his Mastery of the Healing Arts--and he never told Severus.

* * *

**Late August 2001**

He'd contacted his Tutor the next week telling her he was already bored and had changed his mind. He met her in her chambers--a very familiar place after the last two years. She had a huge pitcher of ice tea against the late summer heat--even with cooling spells he was sweating lightly as he carried his broom in to go see her.

"Harry, I have never understood why you keep flying when you could just as easily Apparate here."

He chuckled. "I suppose I could, but I would still have to fly to the Apparation Point and then fly into here as well. I Apparated most of the way today; it was too hot to fly all the way straight, but when it's cooler I enjoy the flight. Clears my head and all that rot."

"So. You're bored and ready to start your Mastery?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes ma'am," he said eagerly, "I also realised you were right. There really was no need to stop and lose my momentum. Where do you suggest I start?"

Professor Carlotta Quiesta was excited. She rarely got students of this caliber and to be able to train one in a profession so rare was a pleasure she intended to savour. Harry was not only smart and powerful, he was funny and 'safe', his known relationship with Severus Snape well established. She was considered quite a handsome woman, and fighting off the amorous advances of her male, and sometimes female, students got tiresome after a while. To be able to relax and explore what this young man was capable of without any of that kind of pressure was wonderful.

"Well, let's see where your strengths lie. You're extremely talented in spells and hexes, especially in the _Sanos_ range, wandless magic, and the Dark Arts. You excel in _Occlumency_ and _Schemata_. You are more than adequate in Herbology and adept in Potions. You would make a good Potions Master," she finished, closely watching his reaction.

He held up his hands in surrender, "No, I don't think so. I have no desire to compete with Severus in anything that close to home and frankly, I don't see me ever reaching his level of expertise. I just don't have the same curiosity he does. He's driven in ways I don't understand to always test the limits of his art. And it is an art for him, not just a profession. He's always thinking even when he's not. No, I'm a little more easy-going than that. That's not saying I don't want a challenge; I can't stand being bored, really, but I want to be able to choose when I'm obsessed by it, not driven to obsession." He hoped that explained the nebulous feelings he had about it.

"An astute observation, Mr. Potter. Severus Snape is indeed one of the best and you are perfectly correct in your assessment. I confess, I was testing you there. I find it is easier for people to articulate what they want when they are busy justifying what they don't want. My apologies if I misled you." She didn't look contrite.

Harry chose to ignore it. "If my strengths lie in _Sanos_ and wandless magic, what career opportunities are there?"

Carlotta arched her well-shaped brow at him. "Knowing your work for the past two years, I find it impossible to believe you have not already thoroughly researched the subject. What are your views?"

Harry chuckled. "Hoist with my own petard. I was thinking of taking my advanced degree in _Sanos_ with a heavy emphasis on reversals of Dark Magic. There are still enough Death Eaters around for me to be of use, and there are always idiots out there dabbling and trying things they ought not to. I was surprised to learn there are few Healers who do this type of work of any caliber, even though the demand is definitely there. I would be foolish indeed not to recognise my own native abilities; they could be put to good use."

She kept her face bland while eagerness coursed through her. _'Native abilities, indeed.'_ The sheer amount of magical power and the affinity for Dark Magic required to do what Potter wanted was an extremely rare combination; Harry had both in abundance. The last one to come through here with his potential had been his lover, Severus Snape. While he'd not had the same power as Potter, he had a quicker mind and the obsession, as Harry correctly observed, to ferret out the secrets he would need to excel. However, it was that same unquenchable prodigy which made him such an excellent Potions Master, that had, in the end, forced the Review Board to steer him in other directions. She had no doubt Harry would shine and she would be the one to guide him. What a paper she could write!

Instead, she counseled cautiously, "I think this might be a course worth looking into. It goes without saying you would need to be tested before the University will allow you to continue; the study is dangerous. Aside from the physical dangers inherent in any _Sanos_ magic, there is also the temptation the Dark Arts can bring. And your advanced abilities in Occlumency and Legilimens might be a hindrance; you have done well to keep quiet about them. Not everyone appreciates someone who can read their memories. I would suggest you continue your discretion in this matter."

And so Harry was tested over a three day period, a gruelling assay that stretched his talents beyond anything he'd tried before. He was grateful for the harsh lessons Snape had taught him. Every time he faltered he could hear Severus' snide voice in the back of his head making him push farther, hold it a little longer--drawing from him the best magic he'd ever practised. He waited impatiently for the results.

He never knew until a few weeks ago, when he read the transcripts, of the long debate by the review board. His results were off any scale they had and it frightened them. When Professor Quiesta heard of the problems and saw her opportunity slipping away, she called in Albus Dumbledore to talk to them. There was no one there who would gainsay him.

He looked at the scores thoughtfully, secretly pleased, and calmly asked them, "What did you expect from the 'Boy-Who-Lived'? Mediocrity? He's had more training since he was eleven than many tenured Professors here. I doubt there are any in this room who could question his integrity. Had he wanted to use the Dark Arts, I assure you, he would have done so by now."

One of the board, an ancient, balding man with a reedy voice spoke up, "We also have concerns about the influence Severus Snape has on him. He is a former Death Eater, after all. How can we be assured he won't turn Mr. Potter after he's completed the course of his Mastery? If successful, Mr. Potter will be formidable indeed with few able to stop him."

Dumbledore barely hung onto his temper. He fixed the professor with a steely eye and said, "His relationship with Professor Snape is outside of this discussion. I have never found anything to make me question Professor Snape's loyalties either now or when he was serving the Order of the Phoenix as an agent against Voldemort. His research and body of published works is impeccable, his skills unparalleled. It seems to me his influence on Mr. Potter's work can only be positive."

And that, as they say, was that. Harry's course of study was approved if Dumbledore would personally ward against any abuses. Albus and Carlotta discussed their roles, more because it was expected of them than any fear on their part of Harry's turning into the next Voldemort. They both knew him better than that.

Harry was told the testing revealed he had a chance, with hard work and study, to be one of the best. Harry had found a niche, one where he could be as unique among his peers as Severus was with his, and he knew that if he could just succeed with this, he would be content with not being able to understand Severus' work because they could be equals--just in different disciplines.

However, he had some problems in logistics. He would be required to continue his apprenticeship with Madame Pomfrey to keep his basic Healing skills intact until he was ready for his practical, he could not take his courses by Owl as he'd done before as there was a practical, and he would need time to do his studies and his papers. There were not enough hours in the day to do all this unless he wanted to stretch it out over several years; he was impatient to get started--and finish.

He'd gone to Dumbledore and explained his situation, not knowing Albus already knew.

"Harry, I am very pleased you have been accepted into the Mastery Program. Professor Quiesta has quite a good reputation in the field and is a solid choice for Tutor. I'm sure Severus is quite pleased as well." He watched Harry carefully.

Harry looked away, out the window, saying, "I haven't told him."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be pleased once you tell him," Dumbledore hazarded.

He squirmed a bit in the chair. "I wasn't planning on telling him."

"Whyever not? It's quite an accomplishment," Dumbledore pushed.

_'Honesty, I must be honest with him,'_ Harry thought as he said, "It's too late to tell him. He doesn't even know I got my Healing Degree." He held up his hand. "Yes, yes, I know it's shitty thing to do. I got my parchment the day his paper was published and by the time I could bring myself to tell him about it, it was too late."

He bit his lip and looked out of the window. "I delayed because I wanted Severus to garner all the praise he could. He deserved it. Now, it's personal. Don't ask me why, I'm not sure I know the answer myself, but I _need_ to prove myself here. I need to be able to live with Severus as an equal. I can't do that now; I feel so stupid at times around him. And although I know he's never interfered in my studies and has always respected me, there is a part of me that wants this for myself. I need to do it outside of his shadow. Oh, I'm explaining this badly."

"No, I think I understand, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "It must be very difficult living with someone who is the very best in what they do. However, Harry, you are also the best at what you do, only you have not realised your full potential yet. Your refusal to tell Severus is not an issue of profession--it is an issue of relationship. I would hate to see you jeopardise what you both have worked so hard to forge because of your own feelings of inadequacy. Severus deserves better than that."

"I know," Harry whispered. "He deserves many things better than what he has received."

"What is it you want from me, other than my silence?" Dumbledore asked, resigned.

"I need a Time-Turner if I am to keep up with all of this," he said, relieved Dumbledore had seemed to drop the subject. He suspected Dumbledore knew it would do no good to talk to him further about the issue, in fact, it might even make it worse.

"Very well. It will take me about a week to get one. In the meantime, I would suggest you think hard about what we have discussed today. Come back here at the same time in a week," he said, clearly dismissing the younger man.

Dumbledore made him wait the entire week even though he got the Time-Turner in only two days--not only to test his resolve--but in the misguided hope Harry would finally tell Severus. When Harry showed up a week later, he merely showed him how to work it and was deeply worried about the whole situation. He'd worked so hard to get the two of them together. It irritated him Harry seemed determined to split them apart, but that was Harry's concern not his.

He did, however, have to strongly restrain himself to not tell Severus anyway. He hated secrets he didn't make.

* * *

**19 June 2003** (Continued)

Over the course of these last two years, Harry had lived four. And he was done. He'd finished his Mastery, with distinction. He finally felt he might, just might, be able to face Severus now that he was more confident. He had more to him now than just being the Pain-In-The-Arse-Little-Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die. He was a Master Healer. Not a Medi-Wizard, but a Dark Arts Specialist.

And he had offers. Good offers, although there were none at Hogwarts but this was not a problem with Apparation. Of course, the problem still remained--he needed to tell Severus what he'd done--before someone mentioned to him the many job interviews and offers he'd received.

On further reflection, he realised he actually had a bigger problem. In leaving one of his better interviews this morning, he'd spied Draco lounging in the lobby of St. Mungos. It still rankled that Dumbledore had let Draco go rather than turn him over to the authorities, but Harry had concurred when presented with all the consequences. To have prosecuted him would have not only brought to light one of the more 'personal' reasons he was being charged (which the papers would have had a field day with), but it would have revealed how the information was obtained in the first place. Dumbledore never did say what had happened, but Severus' continued silence on the matter was indication enough that it had been pretty awful.

Draco looked inordinately pleased with himself, something Harry knew never boded well. Harry supposed Draco was still angry at missing his shot to finally change Harry's name to "The-Boy-Who-Someone-(Namely-Me)-Finally-Killed" because it was clear, in hindsight, that Draco had never been interested in him any other way.

"Potter, going for your weekly repair?" Draco had drawled.

"Malfoy, I see you're still lurking about. Come to see some relatives, or did they just let you out early?" Harry sneered right back. Living with Severus had rubbed off on him in more ways than one; this was a useful thing at times.

"I hear tell that things are not so good in your happy little family." Harry was instantly wary; he could hear the baiting tone Draco was so fond of using with him.

"Family? I haven't seen the Dursley's in six years," Harry declared, deliberately misunderstanding him. His heart had begun to race but with an effort, he kept his face impassive.

"No, you imbecile. Snape. I hear he's been prowling the clubs and the adult stores while ickle Harry has his nose in his books instead of Snape's arse. Boring him already, Harry? Can't keep the old man amused? I'm not too surprised though--you always were a lousy lay." Draco's eyes sparkled as his barb hit home--and hurt.

Harry could sense Draco was telling the truth and in a flash he put together Severus' recent behaviour with some other rumours he had heard about Severus' recent activities, and the letters he'd received. The picture they painted was not good. Not good at all. He stared at Draco, totally at a loss as to what to say, his recently acquired optimism decreasing with each passing moment.

Draco said no more and watched; Harry could tell he was amused and pleased with Harry's reaction and kicked himself for giving him the pleasure and ammunition he needed to hurt him further. Draco gave him the grin he'd hated in earlier years, the one that said 'I just fucked with you and it was so much fun'. He nodded in what Harry took to be satisfaction, turned on his heel, and walked away without a backwards glance whistling a jaunty tune.

* * *

And so he was here, sitting in the park. It was getting late; most of the mothers and children had gone home already and were being steadily replaced by older trysting couples and vagrants moving in for their night's rest. In fact, one was sitting at the other end of the bench Harry occupied, eyeing him suspiciously. Harry was tempted to tell him he got here first. _'Maybe I should note the location of this bench in case I need it when Severus throws me out on my arse. Surely he will not tolerate my presence after I talk to him.'_

He chided himself at his last comment. _'See, there I go again with one of my assinine assumptions.'_ He took a deep breath. _'I can only offer an educated guess as to what Severus' reaction will be, not 'know' it.'_ He chuckled ruefully at his own obtuseness. _'Why is it I can face down the sickest patient, but the moment I think of Severus, all logic flies out the window and my brain turns to porridge?'_

Harry settled back against the bench, his hands loose in his lap, shutting out for the moment the discomfort caused by the vagrant staring at him, still waiting for him to leave. He closed his eyes like he did when he was healing and it was not long before he found his center, the place inside himself where he'd learned to banish the chaos outside of him. The habits of six years came easily and he soon found they worked just as well for his personal life as they did for his work. It was a surprising discovery in itself.

_'What is the problem? What are its symptoms? Diagnose. What could be wrong? Filter out what it could not be.'_

He'd wanted to be equal to Severus. He still did, but how was it different? Thinking on it as he'd not done before, it dawned on him it hadn't been true equality he'd craved in the beginning. _No, I wanted Severus to admire me the same way I'd admired--no, actually adored--Severus in a schoolboy sort of way. Alone, by myself, basking in Severus' warm regard without having to share. Such a selfish childish thing._

With further thought, he concluded the real disservice wasn't in obtaining his Mastery behind Severus' back, although he knew keeping it secret had the potential to destroy any trust he'd forged with Severus over the years. Nor was it that by casually dismissing Severus' truly wonderful accomplishments and his own, he'd deprived them both the chance to strengthen their union by celebrating their victories together. No, the travesty was he'd let his assumptions guide his path rather than his choices.

He was ashamed and shook his head over his own folly. Severus had even tried to tell him his assumptions hurt. The taciturn man had actually opened up and trusted him with the means to hurt him the most. He cringed when he thought about the night Severus had saved his life from Draco's poison. How he'd just assumed Severus had betrayed his secrets to Albus. When Harry had gone back into the bed chamber, Severus had been pale and shaking, his eyes closed against the pain Harry had caused him. Harry's gut clenched at the memory.

_'So what had changed? Why is this happening? What is the root?'_

Even though it was no real excuse, he admitted that his feelings of personal inadequacy had been at the heart of it. And this was where Harry had truly injured his lover, even if Severus was not aware of it, because Harry never gave him the chance to succeed, to grow with him. Instead he had denied him his future by assuming Severus would ridicule his accomplishments. While Severus was the master of insults, he only resorted to them in their relationship whenever Harry had done something really imbecilic or Severus was retreating into his defensive shell. No, this time it had been his own low self-esteem that caused the problem. Severus just got caught in the backwash from it.

With a flash of revelation, Harry bolted upright when he realised the situation had been partially in response, though, to Severus' sometimes overwhelming protectiveness towards him. He knew with surety that this was the other side of his motivations, one buried unseen within him, an instinct he'd unknowingly acted on and knew he'd been right to heed. Severus had the power to unintentionally hurt him, permanently, by holding him back.

The epiphany soothed his conscience and he felt hope. While this was more serious, more deeply ingrained, it was something happening without rather than within. The ultimate selfishness, as it were, but in a good way even though it meant setting aside for a moment his heart's desire. For he knew Severus would never have stopped trying to keep him safe and although it was just another one of the many reasons he loved the man, he also saw with such clarity that had he allowed it to continue, it would have eventually torn them apart for a man such as Severus cannot live forever with a child.

And the root of the problem in this case was that Severus would not have seen it this way and there was a good chance he still would not. Based on his own life and experiences, Severus' survival instincts were sharply honed and he was never consciously aware when he imposed his own values on Harry. And until he found his own place in life, Harry could not gainsay him. No, this was a different type of equality, of the best kind, one to which Harry had not given purposeful thought, but was no less valid for it.

And looking back, he realised Dumbledore had seen this, too. In his own fashion Albus had surreptitiously supported Harry's unconscious decision to keep it from Severus, despite his chastising words to the contrary; he'd given Harry the one chance to grow up on his own.

_'Can it be fixed? What steps need to be taken to cure it?'_

With mixed feelings he knew he'd do it again, in the same manner, if he had to. He'd had to separate himself from Severus in order to join with him later, as an equal. The equality he'd thought at first was one of regard, he saw now was one of person; he'd needed to grow to stand with Severus, man to man. And the real risk was that Severus would not like, let alone love, the man he'd become. His fear was that Severus had only loved the boy he'd been and would find him incomprehensible now.

Before they could be together again Harry needed to take the risk and tell Severus of what he had done and why, and show him that, despite all apearances to the contrary, he still loved him--more than he ever had. He had found himself and, in the process, had discovered that the love he'd had for Severus in the beginning had blossomed into something so profound it filled his soul, his very core, until at times he thought he'd burst from it.

He was long overdue for some penance himself and knew, with a surety not born of assumption, that Severus would mete it out in spades once Harry told him. And he was ready to take it. He had a new maturity, a new vision of the world now than he had four years ago, and knew what he'd done was wrong, even if it might have been for the right reasons. He hoped it wasn't too late. It would have been so much better if Severus could have grown with him.

_'I have to let Severus get reacquainted with whom I have become. To know me. I have to convince him I am no different inside even though I see things differently than I did before. I might even have to make him fall in love with me all over again.'_

Why did he have to make things so complicated? It seemed so simple. He wanted to bind with Severus for the rest of his life if he were willing. He'd gone to Gringotts two days before and, out of the vault, he had got the rings Remus had saved for him, which he'd left at a jeweler's for modifications; he was hoping Severus would be pleased. _'And if he's not? Will I be willing to go back to our old relationship knowing it will end someday? Can I survive not having Severus to talk to, to hold at night, to make love with?'_

Was it already too late? Were the things Draco had said combined with the rumours he'd heard and the letters he'd received already sounding the death knell for them? Suddenly, Harry was filled with resolve. _'I am NOT going to lose Severus. Not on my watch.'_

Which brought him to a third secret, although it was very small and innocent compared to the others and in most cases was even considered socially acceptable. He was working with Dumbledore and McGonagall to arrange a surprise birthday party for Severus on this coming Saturday night. He'd been appalled when he learned no one in Severus' twenty-one year tenure had ever thrown him a birthday party. Harry was incensed and had bullied the other two into helping him.

They'd been working the last few nights after dinner, making their plans and sending out all the invitations. Harry had staggered to his and Severus' rooms late and had been disappointed each night to find Severus already in bed asleep. And equally unfortunate, his inevitable schedule of appointments and interviews during the day dragged him reluctantly out of bed before Severus awoke.

No, he now had the time. _'Even if it means turning down every offer, even if I have to get on my knees and beg, I am going to keep him at my side, for as long as I can hold him.'_ He realised he was wasting precious time and immediately started on his way home.

* * *

The vagrant watched him leave and, with relief, took over the bench, glad his spot was secure for the night. As he drifted off into his own thoughts, he had a random hope that the young man, who had sat so sad and still, solved whatever was bothering him. He then dismissed it as he wondered if it was going to rain tonight.

* * *

End Part II


	25. Part III Perchance to Dream

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Twenty Five : Perchance to Dream**

**20 June 2003**

Severus came back from his wandering thoughts and steps an hour before dawn. Exhausted but wide awake--which would have heralded a normal state of affairs had this been four years ago--his body remembered the feeling (and was not pleased) even as his mind struggled with it. Not expecting Harry to be there, he made no effort to hide his presence as he entered the bed chamber, so it was with some surprise he heard the sleepy, "Severus? Is that you?"

As he toed off his shoes and socks, he said quietly, "Yes, Harry, it's me." He placed the well-worn shoes to the side before opening the door to the wardrobe, the socks thrown inside.

"Hmph. What time is it? Where have you been? I've been worried," Harry mumbled, still half-asleep. _And do I really need--_

_--want to know?_ "I was out wandering the corridors," Severus answered truthfully. He unfastened his robes and tossed them in the bottom of the wardrobe with the other clothes to be cleaned by the house-elves. 

"Oh. Are you all right? You haven't done that in years." Harry sounded a little more awake. He was buried snug in the bed clothes, his eyes half open, watching him take off his high-collared shirt and throw it in to join his discarded robes.

Severus unfastened his trousers and pulled them off. He shivered a little, although the cool dungeon air felt good on his bare legs. Pulling the belt out of the loops at the waistband, he hung it on a hook embedded in the wardrobe's door. "I'm fine, Harry. I just couldn't sleep," he replied blandly. _Liar--_

_--Liar._ "Why not? You usually sleep like a log. Is something bothering you?" Harry asked, yawning. The trousers joined the shirt.

"The bed was cold," Severus stated flatly and decided that pretty well summed it up. He pulled off his boxers and tossed them in with the rest of his clothes.

Severus' chilly words went right through Harry with a sharp stab, piercing his gut with twisting guilt. His eyes narrowed in saddened speculation as Severus padded naked over to his dresser. He couldn't help but notice that his lover had lost a lot of weight, the slenderness of before was now more of a wiry thinness. His apologetic, "I'm sorry, Sev. I've been working with Dumbledore," was for more than just his absence. _This is going to be much harder--_

_--as difficult as I thought._ Severus turned quickly to him, the pyjama bottoms in his hands held in front of him as he'd been preparing to put them on. He raised his brow and said sharply, "At midnight? How convenient." He bent and put the bottoms on, the top band riding loose and low on his hips. He wondered whether he would have the strength or the idiocy, as the case may be, to confirm Harry's meetings with Dumbledore.

Harry sat up in bed, his chest bare, the covers pooling at his hips. He watched the play of muscles under Severus' skin as he closed the door to the wardrobe. Harry felt the familiar tightening; he knew well the hungry look in Severus' eyes. _Lovely man, come to bed--_

_--always so sexy when he's tousled._ Severus felt his stomach clench and his desire fade when the longing in Harry's eyes slowly disappeared to be replaced with an indefinable something--regret? defeat?--with which he was unfamiliar. He heard Harry sigh--in disappointment? _Oh Merlin, don't you want me?--_

_--he doesn't seem interested._ Harry rolled over and watched Severus approach the bed, putting out the lights on the way. The soft glow from a quarter moon through the open curtains gave enough illumination for him to see his lover as he arrived at the side of the bed.

Severus pulled back the covers and climbed in. He debated with himself a moment and then, deciding he couldn't play coy, lay on his side facing Harry. They stared in each others' eyes in the dim light, searching for the same answers to the same questions, when neither one knew the other was asking. Their hands found each other first, meeting and entwining in the space between them. _Do you--_

_--still love me?_ Harry leaned in and lifted his head up, giving Severus a prolonged kiss, his hands gripping desperately in the dark.

Severus kissed him back, softly, but with no fire. He regretfully broke it off first and, closing his eyes, traced his hand down Harry's cheek, the smooth skin turning into rough stubble with pinprick points against sensitive fingers. _Do you--_

_--still want us?_ Harry held still. Severus' touch, the gentle tenderness of it, whispered his feelings of love louder and stronger than any words he might have used. He held his breath as those fingers ghosted over his lips only to realise they'd never moved from their place at his jaw. He leant into the feather touch and, this time, the meeting of their lips was a benediction. 

Severus felt Harry's faith in him, in them, in the simple joining of their mouths. He drank it in with a gratitude only a man dying of thirst can truly give. And once his parched soul was filled, he gave it back in full measure until he could feel Harry relax into him and they were sharing again, the way they'd always had, the need to give or take unnecessary with the fullness of the other. Ending the kiss, he opened his eyes to see Harry's so close, the light from the window behind him making them dim points of light in a pool of darkness. Pulling away his other hand, he hopefully put out his arm, arching it over Harry's head.

Grateful for the offer, Harry moved enough to nestle his head in his hollow on Severus' chest, the soft crisp down there cushioning his cheek. He scooted closer and, partially covering his lover, his free hand made random patterns on Severus' skin, his other lying on the pillow to finger the spread strands of Severus' hair. 

Severus closed his arms in relief, the sweet burden enfolded. _Do you know how good--_

_--content you make me feel?_ Hands at waists--Severus' head resting lightly on Harry's--both staring into nothing--their mutual thoughts floating around like milkweed on the wind. 

They shifted again, each moving unconsciously nearer to the other. An intimation of body meant to convey, without the unutterable words, the closeness of their hearts. _He's here now--_

_--tonight with me._ Severus closed his eyes and let himself feel his lover's body tight against him, the heat of Harry's skin thawing some of the fear around his heart. _That has to mean--_

_--count for something._ Harry slid his hand lightly up Severus' side; the steady beat of Severus' heart under his cheek calmed him and mitigated his earlier despair. _ So close, so good--_

_--don't ruin it now._ Shifting legs tangled in familiar comfort while twined arms captured and held their cherished reunion. Despite their best efforts to savour and prolong the bittersweet tenderness, their eyes grew heavy, their breathing slowed. And as the night wrapped around them in downy slumber, a hopeful thought accompanied them to their dreams.

_Nothing else matters--_  
_--as long as he's here._

**** TBC ****


	26. Part III Running on Empty

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Twenty Six : Running on Empty**

**20 June 2003**

Severus woke alone, late, the depression in the bed next to him cold. He rolled onto his back, staring at the canopy above, disappointed but not surprised. _'All we get now are dribs and drabs. I should have said something.'_

He rolled out of bed, sitting on the side, the ever-present headache waiting sullenly behind his eyes. Reaching into the drawer of his night table, he pulled out a potion and downed a small dose. He found himself grateful it was not one of the more habit-forming analgesics and wondered if its efficacy was reduced by the number of times he'd been forced to use it in the last few months. _'I don't remember seeing anything about it, but my concentration lately has not been what it used to be, either.'_

The pain down to a dull ache, he went about his morning ablutions deciding, as he fastened his robes, to try and eat something before he went to work on the castle. The clock said he had about thirty minutes before he was due to report to the north side of the castle with Flitwick and the Mason, Evans, to work on the addition to the Ravenclaw House, which had grown exponentially over the last three years. The work was mundane and tiring; he and Flitwick built and levitated huge stone blocks while Evans fixed them in place, warding them as he went. Two to three hours of uninterrupted work was about all any of them had the energy to accomplish; the magic needed was constant and wearing.

He was the last to arrive in the Great Hall for breakfast and the only one at the staff table except Trelawney; they studiously ignored each other. Neither Albus nor Harry were in evidence and he thought back to Harry's words last night about working with Dumbledore until well after he'd left on his walk. As he poured syrup over his waffles, he couldn't shake the feeling Harry had been telling the truth, but since he could not bring himself to ask Dumbledore, the feeling did not help him any. Regardless of where he'd been, he'd not been with him.

He forced himself to eat some of the breakfast, the waffles tasting like yesterday's potions' ingredients. His appetite was as low as his confidence. After a few bites, he gave it up as a lost cause. He rose from the table and went to his morning's work. It was going to be a long summer.

* * *

> _Severus was standing in front of the empty wardrobe, his heart in his toes. He quickly strode to the dresser Harry always used and opened every drawer futilely hoping to find one thing, anything left behind that would give him hope Harry was ever coming back. And he found nothing to ease his loss. He walked into the sitting room and saw the tiny gaps between the little trinkets on the shelves, the tables, the walls--the ordinary things that had been Harry's to adorn their home. He went to Harry's study. Everything was missing, except the desk. All the books, the knick-knacks, the pictures, even the chair--all of it gone. The room rang hollow_.
> 
> _Then he saw it. In the middle of the desk top sat an envelope_.
> 
> _With trembling hands, Severus picked up the fine creamy stock and held it against his chest a moment, his heart pounding, before he broke the seal and pulled the single sheet of foolscap out of the envelope. He hesitated, knowing that if he read it, it would be real, it would be final--he would know, one way or another, whether Harry was ever coming back_.
> 
> _He sighed with a heavy heart. Knowing he could not delay any longer, he lowered his eyes to the parchment and read:_
>
>> _Dear Severus:_
>> 
>> _I am so sorry, but I cannot stay any more and hurt you this way. I have found another--_

"Severus! Damn it, Severus! Pay attention! I can't hold it alone. **SEVERUS!**"

Flitwick's desperate yelling finally broke through Snape's fanciful daydreaming. Aghast, he saw the wall shimmering in front of him. A block of stone twice the size of the diminutive professor was hovering a few scant inches over his head ready to fall any second. _'Dear gods,'_ he thought, raising his wand from where it had fallen useless by his side. He resumed the spell and the stone sailed effortlessly to the proper place.

Mike Evans, his eyes huge at the near miss, quickly set the stone into the others they'd done so far. With a click, it bonded and he let out a sigh of relief. "You're nutters," he mumbled, sitting down on another block ready to set.

"Filius, I--" he started to say but Flitwick interrupted him, eyeing the Mason. "Not now, Severus."

Flitwick continued, "I think we've done enough for the day, Evans. Same time on Monday?" At Mike's nod, Flitwick took Snape by the arm almost dragging him away. If it weren't so serious, it would have been comical to see the tiny, portly Charms Professor, who barely came to Snape's thighs, pulling the taller, almost gaunt, Potions Master in his wake.

When they'd reached the edge of the lake, Flitwick abruptly sat down on the grass, pulling Snape down with him. He flopped next to him gracelessly with a whoosh of exhaled air on impact.

Looking out at the lake, Severus could see that Flitwick was struggling with his thoughts. He was such an open book and it was obvious his temper won temporarily over his normal good nature when he nodded to himself in decision and finally said, "I have known you since you were a student, Severus. Over 30 years, to be more precise, and in all that time I have NEVER seen you like _this_."

Waving his hands at the clothes hanging loose on Severus' lean frame, he took a deep breath and went on before Snape could interrupt him, "You're not eating, your eyes are black holes in your head, you're obviously having headaches, and your concentration, recently, is worse than a Third Year's on a Hogsmeade weekend." He harumphed in exasperation at Snape's quiet attention and then chuckled. "Normally, I believe in letting others deal with their own problems and although we may get along with few confrontations, Merlin knows, no one would ever mistake us for best friends." His small smile of inner amusement took the sting out of his words.

His face was kind as he turned to look Snape in the eye, but no less intense than before when he continued, "But this morning changed things, Severus. Talk to me." When he got no response, he sighed. "Now, Severus. If you're going to get me killed, I have at least earned the right to know why."

Severus nodded; it was probably the longest speech he'd ever heard from Flitwick, but he was right. "I'm sorry, Filius. I can't even promise it won't happen again, although I will try."

"Don't tell me you're sorry--I could see that!" Flitwick's irritation broke through again. "And don't tell me 'you'll try' to concentrate. You couldn't do it if _my_ life depended on it. All I want, _right now_, is an explanation." Severus turned his head away from the sudden compassion in his colleague's face. He could feel Flitwick's steady regard and shifted uncomfortably when he heard Flitwick say quietly, "Why? What is so wrong? Why are you sleeping badly? Why are you destroying yourself? And none of your artful prevarication, either. I saw bits and pieces of my life a few minutes ago. I deserve the full truth."

"It's not you, Filius, it's me." Snape stopped as Flitwick harumphed and continued before he could further harangue him. "It's all me. And," he took a deep breath, "Potter."

Flitwick didn't look surprised. He rolled his hand in front of him, raising his brows, indicating, 'Go on'.

Severus sighed. "Harry and I have been having some--problems. Last night was the first time I've seen him in a few days. We're not--close--anymore."

Severus could see a few irate thoughts flick through Flitwick's face before he schooled his features into a smooth mask; Snape couldn't explain how he knew they were not directed at him, though. Out loud Flitwick said gently, "I am assuming you don't know why or where he's gone or you would not be in such bad shape." He chuckled lightly. "I've never seen you at a loss when you had direct action to take."

"I don't know what to do, Filius," he said equally quiet, quickly suppressing the anguish he felt before it reached his eyes.

The look of sympathy Flitwick gave him said he knew just how much the statement had cost the Potions Master. "Severus, it's obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that you care deeply for Harry." He held up a hand as Snape opened his mouth to protest. "No, don't get all bristly with me. The way you two look at each other is positively nauseating at times; I admit to my envy. However, I am mystified. I have _never_ seen you give up on something you truly want; you normally pursue things with the tenacity of a starving Ridgeback after a fresh meal. Why the sudden change? Are you not as enamoured of him as you once were?" He shook his head ruefully. "Never mind--dumb question."

Severus debated and decided. Flitwick was mostly harmless and not prone to gossip. "No, I lo--care for him, but I was stupid. I never told him; I guess I always thought he knew." He hung his head, looking at the grass next to him. "Now, I'm afraid it's too late," he whispered. "If I tell him now, he'll just think I'm saying it to get him back. And he'd be partially right. He's not a 'thing' I can actively pursue; he's a person. And if he no longer wants _me_, then how can I stop him? From leaving?"

Flitwick harumphed and eyed his friend indulgently. "Severus, you might not believe me, but things are not as bad as they seem. I've heard him at the staff table--heard _how_ he speaks about you. He obviously--" he cleared his throat, "--_cares_ for you, too. He's just young, and young men do thoughtful things in a thoughtless manner. You, being the advanced age you are and never having really been young, probably don't remember that." He smiled.

Severus smiled back just a little. _'Who knew Flitwick, of all people, would know the right things to say. Although, I admit, he is often 'overlooked'. No, Severus, you will NOT snicker.'_

"Filius, I owe you more than an apology. I owe you my thanks. While I won't go so far as to say, 'I feel better', I do feel less badly."

Flitwick shook his head, snorting, "That's the nicest thing you've never said to me, Severus." He laughed outright, his eyes merry. "You're welcome," he shook a finger at Snape, his eyes mischievous, "but this still doesn't make us best friends."

Snape pulled back his head to stare at him, his black humour firmly in place. "Good gad, I hope not."

* * *

Right after his talk with Flitwick, Severus attacked his lunch with a little more gusto, even if he still didn't eat but half of it. Dobby made a note and reported back to Dumbledore as requested. Albus was not happy and given the talk he'd just had with Flitwick, who was worried, he knew he _had_ to talk with Harry as soon as possible. It was a good thing they were meeting later this evening. It would save him the trouble of summoning him.

* * *

His afternoon period of the day being his own, Severus restrained the urge to rip the wrapper off the package just delivered by a black Express Owl. The package was heavier than he'd expected and thicker too. He used the scroll opener to break the seal on the promised plain brown wrapper and pulled the paper off to reveal a nicely bound, green leather book with gold leaf. The title was small and discreet: "Answers for the Discriminating Male" Mystified, he opened the front cover where the title was more properly displayed; he heaved a sigh of relief. It was the right book.

He sat down in his chair by the unlit fireplace, his feet on the pouffe and opened the book to the Introduction. It was fairly dry but at least explained why the cover was the way it was. _'I suppose some men might be embarrassed to have the title on the front, although I can't imagine why.'_ He read farther. _'Oh, that makes sense. No rug rats here, and I hadn't thought about women buying it, either.'_

He'd been so engrossed in his overview he missed the sibilant scratching of scales on the floor. He continued reading. A pointy black and white head poked over the top of the pouffe, slowly rising until the body could follow. Severus was so involved with the Introduction, he didn't notice the reptile invasion. Evidently the book came complete with special notes and cut-away sections for the more difficult techniques requiring special 'interior' methods. His curiosity peaked, he decided to skip the rest of the Introduction as it was quickly descending into drivel about 'sharing with your partner' and other revolting romantic notions.

About this time he could feel Horatio's rather substantial weight on his legs travelling up his torso until his inquisitive bright eyes were about six inches from his own. Horatio turned his head to look at the page and drew back hissing, his head hitting Severus in the face as he tried to get away from the garish moving pictures. "Sensible fellow, Horatio. They are pretty lurid." He placed his hand on the back of the snake's head to calm him down and keep him from breaking his nose which seemed to work. He wouldn't exactly call it petting, one did _not_ pet snakes, but it was close enough.

While Horatio continued his trek up Severus' chest to settle as his new choker, he quickly scanned the Table of Contents; it was divided into two parts--'General Topics', and 'Techniques'. A couple of the items caught his eye and he quickly turned to see what they were about. _'My,'_ he thought looking at the Wizarding Sketches in the book, _'I'm not sure that's physically possible; it certainly looks uncomfortable.'_ After flipping through the pages with their myriad of flashing pictures, he quickly decided he needed to be more methodical about this whole thing and a little less cosy. What he'd seen so far was promising, if a bit overwhelming.

Horatio seemed to agree. His head stretched out from Severus' shoulder, looking at the pictures. He slued his body around to face Severus and flicked his tongue, hitting Severus' nose. Severus shook his head and decided they needed to move.

Holding Horatio firmly so he wouldn't fall off, Severus got out of the chair and went to his desk where he pulled out a fine tipped quill and his favorite red ink. _'Hmmm. Last bottle. Need to pick up some this weekend if I'm to finish critiquing that paper Hermione asked me to look over.'_ He hesitated about the parchment, but a quick glance showed him the margins in the pages were ample for short notes and questions to look up later if need be. He cleared the rest of the desk and set to work, feeling like an under-grad cramming for a test in a class he'd been ignoring all year.

The farther into it he got, the less exciting it was. The dry, factual text made it easier to concentrate and after about the third chapter, he was numb to any stimulation the pictures could have brought. And there was a plethora of pictures. Many were basic things he already knew--_'Don't use your teeth unless you either shield them or are very sure of your lover'_--and he moved quickly through them.

Others were so strange he had to stop and really study the moving pictures before he could figure out what it was one was supposed to do; these were the ones most likely to have cut-away sections, which he found mostly hilarious. A few of them were quite disgusting in a fascinating kind of way, especially the ones about "Animagus and Oral Sex." He shuddered, _'A squid?'_

Page after page, the level of the red ink dropped in the bottle as he added notes all over the margins. A couple of the techniques especially confounded him; it didn't matter whether he turned the book upside down and downwards, leaf facing the floor, or sideways--_'Absolutely anatomically impossible for anyone other than a contortionist.'_ Just looking at them made his bones ache.

Several hours later he finished, the ink almost gone; it had been many years since he'd had to take such extensive notes. His bum was sore from the hard chair, his fingers stiff, and he had a headache from all the moving pictures. But it had been worth it. The book had been as helpful as he could have wished; there were a couple of things he wouldn't mind trying tonight, assuming Harry was at home and willing.

He slumped in the seat defeated. _'Who am I fooling? Even if he does come home, like last night, he still won't be interested.'_ He looked at the clock and noticed it was already dinner time. He decided to take a shower and then go to the Great Hall for dinner.

He gently unwound Horatio who, for all he knew, had been asleep. He certainly had been no bother. The snake easily moved off and Severus carried him over to his bed by the fireplace. The snake coiled and resumed his motionless state.

* * *

Most of the school was empty, as was the Great Hall. Severus toyed with his food in silence sitting next to Dumbledore who seemed a bit pre-occupied.

"I'm sorry, Severus, what did you just say?" he asked, turning to look at his colleague and friend.

"I said nothing, Albus." He gave him a wide-eyed innocent look. "You know, I have potions to take away those little voices. You've only to ask."

"Oh, pish!" he exclaimed and then looking closely at him, his eyes sharpening behind his half-moon spectacles, said, "However, you don't look so well yourself, my boy. What's troubling you?"

Severus wished he could confide in Dumbledore, but the subject was just too personal. "Nothing, Albus, everything is just fine." He supposed his inability to look him in the eye as he said it earned him the Headmaster's next statement.

"Poppycock!" Dumbledore studied him a moment and put his hand on Severus' lying next to him on the table top. It took some effort not to pull it away; he could see the amusement in Albus' eyes at his fortitude. "You worry too much, my dear boy. Things are not always as they appear; I daresay a good night's sleep will put it all to rights."

_'As I thought--the man misses nothing. I don't know why I bother not telling him.'_ Out loud he said, "Thank you, Albus, once again for your ambiguous reassurances. I feel better already."

"Testy, testy. Somebody missed their nap." He hid his smile behind his napkin.

"With all due respect, sir: sod off!" he exclaimed quietly. _'Gods, that felt good.'_

Dumbledore chuckled. "Feel better now?" His face got serious. "Really, Severus, you look like you could use a good night's sleep. There _is_ a reason you make all those batches of _Dreamless Sleeping Potion_ for the school. Use it." The suggestion was more an order.

"Yes, Mum," Severus said with a small smile.

Albus chuckled, and with a fond glance at his protégé, went back to his meal.

Severus finished playing with his meal in silence, and after a good night to Dumbledore, left the Great Hall to go straight back to his quarters.

He looked long and hard at the bottle of potion he pulled from a shelf in the bed chamber while walking back to his study. While not _Dreamless Sleeping Potion_, it was similar and would let him sleep lightly without the grogginess in the morning. He sat down at his desk, put the potion to the side and resumed his perusal of the book, adding a few more desultory notes here and there.

Well after he'd started, he was exhausted. The pages swam before his eyes, he flipped the book closed, the quill fell from his hand unnoticed, and his heavy eyes finally closed as he fell deeply asleep sitting upright at the desk. Not long afterward, he folded, his head cradled on his arms, still fast asleep.

* * *

TBC


	27. Part III Absence Makes the Heart Grow S...

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Twenty Seven : Absence Makes the Heart Grow Sleepy**

**20 June 2003**

Dumbledore was not fooled for an instant as to the source of Severus' dark shadowed eyes and slumping posture. After all, he'd been aiding and abetting the 'problem' all week. Coupled with the ugly rumours to which he was not immune and the hang-dog look the 'problem' had been wearing as a result, he knew exactly what the issues were. Flitwick's few words to him this afternoon made the matter urgent and he'd decided, during the soup, that he needed to clear the air, so to speak, with Harry this evening when they met to discuss the party.

And that time was now. The three of them, Minerva, Harry, and he had been working on the last details this evening and were as finished as Albus wanted to be. For the first time in a long time, he was heartily tired of his office and wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but with this business of Harry and Severus, he knew that desire would have to be put off for just a little while longer. As Harry was writing the last of the instructions to be given to the house-elves, Dumbledore caught Minerva's eyes over the young man's bent head and winked.

She nodded in acknowledgement and with a hidden smile said, "Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm all for bed," McGonagall said, stretching, her hand covering her mouth as she yawned hugely.

"Minerva, stop that yawning," Dumbledore ordered, his mock growl belied by his broad smile. "Don't get us started, too. You go ahead and toddle off to bed; Harry and I have some things to discuss."

He looked at her meaningfully and per their pre-arranged signal, she left saying, "G'nite to you both."

Harry was confused. "G'nite, Minerva, but we're not--"

Albus interrupted him. "We most certainly are, Harry. Any more discussion and we'll plan the fun right out of the party. One must be spontaneous and leave some elements to chance or there's no room for merriment to evolve," Dumbledore said reasonably, hearing the door close behind McGonagall. He suddenly got serious, "Besides, I _do_ need to have a chat with you, Harry."

Harry's face said he really didn't need to ask what about, but he did so anyway.

Dumbledore regarded him kindly and asked quietly, "Do you really need for me to spell it out for you?"

"No, I know. It's Severus," Harry said in a small voice.

"You know, he almost killed Flitwick today; the Mason, Evans, swears he's 'nutters'." Dumbledore told him sitting back in his chair waiting for the inevitable reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

"How? What happened? Is he all right?" Harry asked frantically.

"Physically? Yes, they're all right. However, I don't think Severus has been _fine_ for quite a while," Albus replied with a sniff. "The staff is only now beginning to realise what he's been struggling with this past year."

Dumbledore regarded him seriously, his face hard. "In fact, you've almost driven our mild-mannered Charms Professor to violence. Filius threatened to beat you this afternoon, you know. He said, and I quote, _'I never thought I would see the day when I wanted to take Potter over my knee and give him what-for. What the hell is he doing?'_ He thinks, and I have to agree with him, that you are being extremely thoughtless about the whole thing. You're going to lose Severus if you're not careful. I told him plainly that if my talk with you this evening was unsuccessful, he was welcome to try and pound some sense into you."

"That bad?" Harry asked contritely, looking away from the Albus' stern visage. He looked horrified and chagrined that his behaviour would drive the mild Flitwick to violence against him and reeled with Dumbledore's disapproval.

Dumbledore decided to drive it home. "Worse. He's not eating, he's not sleeping, and his concentration is non-existent. He's been nice to his students, for Merlin's sake. He's worried sick about you."

Harry asked, "Then what's making him prowl the streets?"

Dumbledore grew impatient, his voice quite forceful as he growled, "The only thing he's prowling right now is the back hallways. Damn it, Harry, just stop this. Talk to him. Tell him what you want, how you feel. Don't leave him hanging like this. It's just not good form for you to treat him this way."

Harry hung his head. "I wanted to ask him to marry me this weekend. For his birthday. I guess that's out of the question now," he said petulantly.

"Is there any particular reason you keep feeling sorry for yourself, or is this a general personality flaw?" Dumbledore asked with more heat than he intended. This whole situation was irritating, had been from the beginning and he didn't know with whom he was more irate--Harry for making the problem in the first place, or himself for going along with it. "You can't ask him to commit his life to you until you come clean about the rest of this sordid mess. Then, IF he's still speaking to you, and I remind you, with Severus' penchant for honesty that's a BIG if, then you can think about the future. But first, you MUST work through the past. NOW." He shook his head sadly. _'Although I have no doubt that in his current state, if you asked him right now and never told him, he'd still commit to you with no questions. More the fool him.'_

Harry's small, hesitant tone told Albus that this young paramour was afraid to confront his lover with the truth. "You're right. I know. But knowing doesn't make it any easier."

His voice far away, Dumbledore decided to take pity on him and murmured, "Your stomach's on fire, your heart's beating out of your chest, your voice has fled to Paris for a long holiday. You planned your words, oh so carefully, before you confronted them and the moment you look into their eyes all previous thoughts disappear in the ether, never to return, leaving you to tell them your sorry secrets with only the truth and the feelings left in your soul." Harry looked sharply over at him, questioning. 

Albus chuckled starkly. "Harry, why do you think old people are so adamant to younger people to do these things? Did you think you were the first person on earth to do something so abysmally stupid? The first to hurt someone with thoughtless actions? To wound their lover because they felt inadequate to tell them the truth? I will guarantee you, from my own life, you are not the first to have laid a foundation of half-truths until it came tumbling down around your ears." He sighed sadly. "I just hope you don't leave it too late as I did. The losses we take because we cannot conquer our fears are the ones we wake up regretting every day of our lives."

Harry gaped at him. "Go to bed, Harry. Go to Severus. If nothing else, tell him you love him. Let him sleep in peace. Please."

Harry nodded. As he got out of the chair, he looked down at the ancient Headmaster, seeing every mistake he ever made shining in his eyes. He put his hand on his shoulder and, leaning down, kissed the weathered cheek, whispering, "Thank you, sir."

He left without looking back, a pensive curl to his shoulders.

Dumbledore shook his head, thinking there might just be hope for them yet.

****

Harry took a deep breath before entering the door to their quarters. On the walk from the Headmaster's office he'd resolved that if Severus were not home, he would go out looking for him even if he had to ask every single blasted portrait in the castle where he was. Closing the door quietly behind him, he stepped into the sitting room. A quick glance around him revealed a search would not be necessary; he could see Severus through the open door of his private study sitting at his desk with his head in his arms.

_'Asleep?'_ he asked himself as he dropped his robes on the back of the couch. The room was stifling, the air still and stale.

He walked into the study, concerned, and breathed a sigh of relief when he could see the regular rise and fall of Severus' back. _'Asleep, then.'_ After opening the windows, he sat down in the wing chair across from the desk and simply watched his lover, taking in his surroundings. It had been a long time since he'd just sat still. He noticed the sleeping potion immediately and, noting the seal, knew Severus had not taken any before he'd fallen asleep. _'Albus was right--he_ is _exhausted. Severus rarely falls asleep without a potion if I'm not here.'_ The thought was humbling. He'd never much thought about the major part he'd taken in Severus' life, how his actions, or inaction in this case, directly affected his lover.

Severus was slumped on his arms at the desk; his outer robes discarded, he was in his shirt and trousers. The wrists poking out of the ends of the long sleeves were thinner, almost delicate, and paler than he remembered. He had a sudden picture in his head of them wrapped in bandages, bleeding, the victims of Lucius' vindictive punishments. Severus' shoulders, never robust, were now bony through the fine lawn of his shirt. Thinking of last night, he realised Severus had lost far more weight than he'd thought when he'd first seen him with sleepy eyes.

Severus' hair was clean and very long but dull; the normal protectants he used in it to keep it from sullying the brews were missing. This was possibly the deepest shock and brought the utmost shame. _'It takes days for those to wear out. He hasn't even been making his potions?'_

He next noticed the quill spilling almost dried red ink on the fine wood of the antique desk. _'He fell asleep with it in his hand. Severus cherishes that desk too much to be sloppy about it.'_ He could see the edge of a book peeping out from under his hair and arms. _'Working on it? Commenting? Correcting? Editing? No telling with him.'_

He was also still wearing his boots. Not necessarily a thing out of the ordinary, except in this room at this desk with the pale cream Aubusson carpet underneath. Severus always removed his footwear before stepping on it, not wanting to damage it. Harry could remember the joy on his face when he'd found the damn thing on one of their rare forays into Muggle London; Severus loved old things and trawled the antique shops, his favourite being in Saundersfoot in West Wales. It had been before he started his mastery that they'd last gone.

Harry sighed with regret. _'So many things wrong with this scene and most of them my fault,'_ he thought wearily. He looked at the clock--11:04 p.m. Time to get them both to bed.

He rose from the chair uncertain how to proceed. Severus was always hell to wake up right after he'd gone to sleep, but he just couldn't leave him there. Not only would he be stiff and sore the next day, Harry, in an act of selfishness he knew Dumbledore would approve, wanted Severus in bed with him. He moved to the side of him, close, an idea forming.

He gently placed his hands on Severus' back and ran his fingers and palms lightly up the spine easily felt under the thin fabric Severus was wont to wear during the summer months, feeling the muscle beneath his hand quiver. _'That's an auspicious beginning.'_

When he reached the nape of his neck, he pushed the hair now falling mid-back to the side and bent down to feather his lips and tongue over the hot soft skin he found there when he gently pulled the collar back. He loved Severus' neck. Long and pale, the skin, velvety from the oils in his hair, was always sensitive to touch of any kind. He paid it due attention, tightening the way he always did whenever he touched his lover this way, his hands running slow random strokes along his back and arms.

Severus stirred and groaned. His head lifted from the desk and he sat back in the hard chair, still semi-asleep. Harry moved behind him and smoothed his hands over his shoulders and slid them down the front until his hands rested flat against Severus' chest. He closed his eyes, feeling his sleep-warmth, relishing the play of muscles under his hands and the way Severus' head fell back against his ribs. He raised a hand to lightly stroke the exposed throat with the tips of his fingers and felt him swallow. "Hmmm--Good--Feels so good." Severus took his hand, laid his cheek against the palm, and then kissed it.

"Come Sev, time for bed," Harry said gently. Severus pulled his head away reluctantly and pushed the chair back, standing a little awkwardly while blood flowed to his legs. He weaved a moment, disoriented. As Harry led him unresisting to their room, he noticed the title to the book "Answers for the Discriminating Male" and felt his heart sink down to his feet. _'What on earth? Is this one of those do-it-yourself books on picking up new partners?'_ He almost faltered but could hear Dumbledore in his head, _'The only thing he's prowling is the back hallways.'_ He shook the heavy fear away. _'Merlin, I hope he's right.'_

Maneuvering him slowly into their bed chamber, Harry finally got Severus over to the side of the bed; he was swaying, starting to fall back asleep where he sat. Harry decided to dispense with the niceties and, uttering a spell, he disrobed him down to his boxers. He hesitated and, continuing the spell, he removed them as well. He steadied Severus by the shoulder from falling over and got him to stand long enough to spell the pyjama bottoms on him. One glimpse at the jutting hipbones and articulated ribs had been enough to confirm what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. His lover was starving. And maybe not just for food.

_'There is no time to regret the past. I feel an urgency now to start making it right.'_ A small push was all it took to get Severus into the bed fast asleep on his side, facing the outside of the bed. That it was actually Harry's side of the bed lost its importance for the moment in that he was just glad to have got him there in the first place. He quickly divested his own clothing and put on pyjama bottoms with distaste. _'I hate wearing clothes to bed, although Severus used to also, so maybe this is another new thing I never noticed.'_

Harry climbed in and rather than try and wrestle Severus over, he curled around him, his head resting against his back, his arm thrown possessively over his waist. Severus mumbled in his sleep and partially woke. "Mmmm, Harry?"

"Yes, Sev, it's me." He held his breath.

"Mmph. What time is it?" His hand covered Harry's, stroking it absently.

"Just a little past eleven. You fell asleep at your desk," he chuckled.

"Ah, good reason I don't remember getting here." He rolled over, facing him. "So tired. Did I take the potion?"

"No, I don't think so. The seal was still on the bottle." Severus' arm arched over his head and Harry gratefully slid into his hollow.

Severus tightened his arms around him, nuzzling his forehead, rubbing his cheek against his hair. "Mmmm. Nice. You always feel good. Hate taking the potion. Gives me a headache in the morning."

"It's good to be home," Harry said simply, snuggling in and moving his legs to tangle with Severus'.

Harry felt the kiss on the top of his head, as Severus murmured half-asleep, the words slurring, "Mmph, you planning on staying a while?"

_'My whole life, if you'll have me,'_ he thought, but said, "Yes, Sev. I'm home for a while." His fingers were combing through the hairs on Severus' chest.

Severus tightened his arms around Harry and then loosened them slightly but did not release him. "At least until morning?" he asked, sleepily aware of Harry's touch, but too exhausted to do anything about it.

Harry thought his heart would break at the almost plaintive note in his lover's voice. "For as long as you'll have me."

"That long? Just 'til the morning will be fine--for now," he half mumbled as he fell back into his slumber, quite content.

"I can do that," Harry said to the sleeping man. Kissing the warm skin near his mouth, he whispered, "I love you, Sev." Hearing Severus' deep sigh, he relaxed and followed him into sleep.


	28. Part III Christmas Margins

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Twenty Eight : Christmas Margins**

**21 June 2003** (Some Hours Before Dawn)

The problem with being an unacknowledged creature of habit is finding yourself unable to stay somnolent when you are not on the side of the bed on which you are accustomed to sleeping. Harry woke for the final time a few hours later after experiencing vague half-formed dreams that would jerk him awake at the oddest times. And as was customary, he woke curled tightly around Severus, their legs tangled, his hand around the slender waist grasped by both of his lover's. He and Severus had been trying to figure out for years how it was they went to sleep one way and woke up another, every single day, when neither one remembered moving. Tonight was no exception. Harry had faded in and out of sleep but couldn't say when they'd shifted to this position with him cradling Severus from behind.

Not that he minded much. He was aroused, tucked tightly in Severus' cleft, his hand already involuntarily moving forward, creeping lightly over his hip, sliding across the shallow valley where leg meets torso to stroke Severus. In fact, a very normal way for him to awaken his lover, although the soft cotton feel of the thin fabric of the pyjamas instead of silky skin was a bit of a jolt. _'But not now. It's only three in the morning. He needs to sleep and I need to think,'_ he sternly told himself, reluctantly willing his hungry body to obey as he pulled his hand back to rest comfortably on Severus' hip. Without thought he placed a soft kiss on the skin under his cheek.

He put some air between them and thought about their relationship for a while. _'Could that be part of the problem? Our decision? Could Severus have agreed to it solely because of me and not because of any inclination on his part?'_ He was having a hard time wrapping himself around the thought. Their resolution had been made eye to eye with deep conviction at the time and with no prevarication. _'No, Severus would not deceive me, not about something that important. Perhaps he has changed his mind? Decided he wants it after all?'_ He felt the shudder run through him. _'And can I bear to give myself to him that way? I know I can't take him.'_

It was a disturbing thought--one he had no easy answer to. During the four years since they'd been lovers, there'd never been any regrets expressed about their mutual intent. Both had professed to a strong physical and mental discomfort being penetrated, neither had ever truly felt comfortable taking anyone that way, and both had such horrible recollections of being taken forcefully they were unable to get past their first memories to make ones of their own. The nightmares they helped each other through were proof enough, he thought, of their sincerity.

After their first two aborted attempts in the beginning, they'd tried once more a few months later; it had been such an unmitigated disaster they'd resolved to never attempt it again. In fact, once decided, Harry had felt a huge measure of relief as if a final pressure had been removed--Severus had said he felt the same way. They were devoted to each other and had plainly enjoyed their loving without penetration. He'd never missed it nor the awkward coupling positions where getting close was either difficult or required a gymnast's flexibility. Instead he found a strong emotional closeness to Severus with the tight physical closeness of their bodies. Face to face, heart to heart. Not that they hadn't _played_ a bit. Fingers were sometimes fun, not often, but there'd been a place for it. Especially with--_'Down boy!'_--he was getting hard again. 

Severus' weakness, if he could call it that, was touching and kissing--both giving and receiving. His sensitive skin would stipple and twitch with the lightest of caresses. Harry had found out early on he could play Severus like a fine instrument and make him respond, sometimes quite volubly, just by touching and kissing the right spots. He didn't even have to touch him intimately. Once, when they'd made one of their rare jaunts to a club Severus knew of, he'd been feeling quite wicked and by touch alone he'd made Severus climax in public while dancing, no one the wiser as the music had covered Severus' strained groans. Of course, Severus had retaliated later that night, after recovering from the mortification, by bringing Harry to the edge so many times with his exquisite mouth and hands without release he'd thought he was going to die. The orgasm, when Severus finally allowed it, had been painfully superb for them both.

And they both truly enjoyed oral sex, Harry especially. He had to catch Severus in the right mood for him to enjoy it as much as he did on a daily basis, but oh, what fun it was to make Severus squirm. He felt fortune smiled on him that Severus was as aroused by giving head as much as Harry was receiving it. And Severus was quite skilled. _'Merlin, what a mouth he has! Truly gifted--lucky me.'_ He could feel the tightness just thinking about it. He found himself reaching for Severus again and when he realised it, he pulled his hand back like it was on fire. _'Enough! If I'm going to continue thinking about this, I am going to have to leave this bed. Right now! I Will Not Wake Severus--He Needs His Sleep.'_

Amused and still aroused by his unruly thoughts, he slowly pulled away regretfully, rolled over, and got out of the bed. He was cold and he steeled himself to get his dressing gown to go out in the sitting room. He _really_ needed to think without the temptations Severus' body was giving him. Severus, usually a light sleeper, never stirred. _'More's the pity.'_

As he looked at his lover's face, so beautiful in repose, a small, ignored part of him wistfully thought, _'But maybe he needs something else more? There were many nights he left me alone, seemingly content just to hold me while I slept, although at the time I thought he was just being thoughtful. I remember coming home those nights barely able to stagger to bed. Maybe he got bored with my inability to do more than sleep?'_ Tying the belt to his dressing gown, he set these morose thoughts aside as unproductive. He took a deep breath forcing himself to believe Dumbledore's words and tried to suppress the unwelcome visions of Severus with someone else.

With slow disheartened steps he made his way into the sitting room. He was about to settle on the couch when his attention was drawn to the book he'd seen when he'd come home--the one Severus had been reading and over which he'd fallen asleep. Curious, he drifted into the study and stood before the desk, running his fingers lightly over the green leather cover of the book. _'Do I really want to know what this is about?'_ He wasn't sure. "Answers for the Discriminating Male", it said. _'Well, I need answers, too.'_ He sat in the short-backed wooden chair, finding it as hard and uncompromising as its owner used to be. Uncomfortable because he'd never sat at Severus' desk before, Harry felt he was invading his privacy--something Severus still valued highly and he tried hard to respect.

Nonetheless, he threw aside his reservations and opened the cover. The relief at the title within left goosebumps all over him. _'Not a cruising book then.'_ He thumbed through the pages, fascinated by the pictures. The bleeding margins were filled with Severus' distinctive, crabbed notes, tiny--not his normal flaring style. More like the notes he put on papers when he was grading or editing them. Bending close, Harry almost wished he still had his spectacles; the vision correcting spells still didn't help him much with handwriting such as this, and he had to blink hard several times to focus.

He started reading those notes. He made out phrases like, "H would like this--" and "H would never do--" and "Maybe for H, but certainly not for me." He smiled when he read, "They must be joking!"--he could hear Severus saying it in his head. After a few minutes it dawned on him that the "H" he kept seeing was him. _'Sev has been reading this for me?'_

Suddenly it was all clear to him. _'What a pair of idiots we are,'_ he thought joyfully, laughing out loud. A strong jolt of pure happiness and hope surged through him, leaving him more optimistic than he'd been for weeks. _'Both of us are afraid the other is leaving! Stubborn sorry bastards, aren't we? More my fault that. I haven't been home enough and the last few months it's been all I could do to drag my sorry arse home and collapse. It's no small wonder Sev thought I wasn't interested. And this--'_ he thumbed through some pages, _'--this actually looks a right giggle._ He chuckled. _Only Severus would think to use a book as a sexual aid. Well, maybe Hermione might, too.'_

He picked up the heavy volume from the desk and carried it over to his study on the other side of the sitting room. While the room was rather small, it had a larger desk than Severus' dainty antique. Made entirely of glass with an aquarium in the top, it took up most of the cosy space. Severus thought the fish distracting but when Harry worked, there was too much clutter strewn over the top for him to see the colourful occupants, and when he wasn't working he found the tiny fish soothing whenever he needed to get into the meditative state required to actually practice his art. 

Right now the desk was empty except for Cally, his cat, who could often be found sleeping on the outer corner. A present from Dumbledore three years ago, Cally was all white and pink with cornflower blue eyes, stone deaf, and inordinately fond of watching his fish; she was very attentive to motion of any kind. Severus and Hedwig tolerated her; Horatio, sulking after being sternly admonished not to eat her as a kitten, hunted with her often, letting her play with the mice and things they caught before he consumed them. 

To see her very small dainty body (not much larger than a kitten's) stretched out and nestled through his coils while they slept by the fire or in Horatio's room was an odd sight at best, especially when one considered he could easily eat her, even now. And the plants in the greenhouse left her alone, especially the vines. A few rips of her claws and ferocious teeth had taught them a hard lesson to leave her be when she proved immune to their soporific poison.

She slept just about anywhere except their bed. Severus had drawn the line early on when, as a kitten, she'd 'nested' in a particularly fuzzy, intimate place. He'd not had too much of a problem with her snuggling, although he'd expressed a certain amount of embarrassment _'and I'm fairly sure Severus wouldn't have nailed my entrails to the wall had I told anyone about it.'_ However, Severus strenuously (and quite vocally) protested when she displayed her profound pleasure in his accommodation by kneading the area with her paws, but even then he'd barely tolerated her. That is, until she tried to suckle. With a loud oath, and a flurry of bed clothes, he'd been quite adamant about her secure place in hell _'and really, I don't think he meant his threats to use (with extreme malice) one of her nine lives.'_ But the true 'injury' to his insult came when Severus was trying to remove her from the offended area in the fastest manner possible. She'd panicked and sunk her teeth and claws, no less ferocious for all their small size, into--well, Harry had acceded gracefully to her banishment with little grumbling. _'Although how was I supposed to know he wouldn't appreciate my offer to 'kiss it and make it better'--I was only being solicitous. Maybe it had something to do with me falling off the bed laughing.'_

He smiled. Severus hated her white hairs on his dark robes but was the first to stroke her when she inevitably jumped up in his lap circling and purring, or with her front paws on his face, holding him still, while she stood on her hind legs to bathe his nose. He was her human, too.

Harry sat down at his desk, rummaged in the tambour on the side, and pulled out a bottle of his favorite green ink and a fine quill he used for note-taking, which was very similar to the one Severus had used earlier. _'In fact,'_ he thought, _'I probably stole it from him a couple of months back.'_ Cally flicked her ear but otherwise didn't move.

He read through the pages in much the same manner Severus had, skimming over the parts that left him cold. _'A squid?'_ He studied in detail the ones interesting to him. The section on 'Naughty Desserts' was intriguing, and his stomach started grumbling along with other parts of his anatomy.

_'Hmmm. ~Favorite Songs to Hum Along~? Looks a bit daunting and Severus thinks it's boring. However, a good sing-a-long might be fun every now and again,'_ he thought, skimming this section. After a while, he began to get his point and agreed with him by the end of the section.

His quill flew across the pages, mostly between the lines as Severus had already completely filled in some of the margins, as he added notes of his own and comments to Severus' notes. At times, he had to stop to catch his breath after a particularly good one. _'Oh YES! ~Learn the Flute to Drive Your Lover Wild~. Even if Sev does think the tonguing looks complicated, it's--it's--WOW!'_

He noted Severus had some questions as well requiring his response, the most important being that the invisibility cloak was in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. The chapter entitled _~Pushing or Pulling: A Comparative Study~_ confounded him as did Sev's question, "_Pushing?_" By the end of it, as Harry got the gist of it, he noted: "_Pulling!_", assuming anyone, like his lover, was seeking his opinion.

When he read the section, _~Spit or Swallow: A Personal Choice~_ he realised he really had some strong preferences--something about which he'd never really thought. However, with these ruminations came the surprise that, based on his comments, Severus knew of them as well and that he'd paid attention. Severus had noted "_Spitting? How déclassé._" to which he replied, "_Hard to spit when your cock is down my throat!_"

Some were just plain stupid. Like the _~Silk-Boxers-Blow-Job~_. His first thought as he read the entry was echoed by Severus' comment: "_What would be the point?_" Harry couldn't fault it and agreed in his notes by adding a couple of exclamation points, the ink splotching on the dots. 

The _~Upside-Down-Blow-Job~_ almost qualified as pretty inane when he first looked at the pictures, then he read the comment: "_Won't work--H prefers the supine position--definitely better for my back, though_." He studied the pictures where the giver lay on the bed, face up, while the receiver stood by the side of the bed and--received. He'd never thought the physical act might cause Severus distress and though he was right, he really did prefer laying on his back, he gamely wrote down: "_Hey, I'm willing to try almost anything once_." Until he saw the very next one, the _~Push-Me-Pull-You~ not to be confused with the ~Do-Little~_, which to him looked more like tug-of-war than head. He duly noted, "_Except this_".

At some points, Severus' naïve comments were almost cute. He'd made notes in the margins that were more questions than anything else. Like his curious remarks about 'the Harley'; Severus had no clue what one was. Harry obligingly wrote down it was a large American motorcycle, but as more of the references showed up, such as in the _~Suck-My-Balls-Dry-Blow-Job~_, he realised Severus had no idea what it meant either, so he reassured him under _~Vacuum Techniques~_ that one did not necessarily need to know what a Harley was in order to be able to "_suck-start_" one. Of course, he couldn't help adding, "_Trust me--you can skip this section--you should be teaching it_."

Towards the end, he hit pay dirt. There was an entire chapter titled, _~Fore(Skin)Play~_. Excitedly turning the pages, he noted this was where Severus seemed to have concentrated most of his comments; there were quite a few exclamation marks and almost no room to reply. Not that he was inclined to do so. Reading through the sections and the numerous notes, he happily realised he was in for a hard time, literally, if his current condition just thinking about it was any indication. Severus already knew and practiced a goodly number of the techniques shown and the new ones looked positively brilliant, especially the section on 'rolling tips'. Even after four years, his head was still so sensitive with the skin retracted, he ached when he came and breathing was something requiring conscious thought. And Severus, working his oral magic on him with wicked tongue and nimble lips, could have him babbling and writhing across the bed begging for mercy. He had to set the book aside for a long moment to collect himself enough to finish it without it 'finishing' him.

Almost at dawn, he'd finally gone through the interesting bits. His distinctive green ink contrasted nicely with Severus's red ink. _'Almost like Christmas.'_ He closed the book and returned it to Severus' desk where he'd found it, leaving a short note in the front on a separate piece of parchment; he got a picture in his head of the expression on Sev's face as he read some of his notes. He sincerely hoped they would be enough to assuage his fears as much as reading Severus' had allayed his own. Yawning hugely while arching his back on a long stretch, he decided to go back to bed.

As he was climbing in under the warm covers, he reminded himself he had to go to Diagon Alley sometime today to pick up the Nuptial rings. He'd opened an Owl from the goldsmith when he'd got home this evening, which had told him the modifications he wanted made to them were completed. He remembered he'd have to go to Gringotts first to get the Galleons; he was running low. _'Ah well, time enough later to figure that out. Right now I just want to sleep.'_ Scooting close, he pressing a light kiss to Severus' back. Snuggling, he draped his arm over and around Severus' waist smiling sleepily at how good he felt; soon after he didn't think about much at all.


	29. Part III The Book and Other Impressions

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Twenty Nine : _The Book_ and Other Impressions**

**21 June 2003** (Continued)

Dawn was long gone when Harry woke again, refreshed and eager to go about his day. He reviewed in his head all the things he had to do to get ready for the party tonight and, looking at the clock, was dismayed to realise he would not be able to lay abed with Severus the way he'd wanted to if he was going to get everything done on time.

He tried, he really did try to wake Severus up. They had a little bit of time and he didn't want to waste it--didn't want to leave Severus feeling the same way this morning he'd obviously felt last night. But it was no use; the man was just too exhausted. He contented himself by spending the last few moments he had cuddled close to him randomly stroking his chest and trailing kisses down his neck and back. _'Man, he is really out of it if this won't wake him up.'_

Finally, he could tarry no longer, so he quietly got out of bed, performed his morning ablutions, and got dressed in Muggle clothes of a button-down shirt and butter-soft jeans washed so many times they were almost white. He carried his robes over his arm as he had a lot of places to go, starting in Muggle London. He placed one knee on the bed and leaned in, giving Severus a soft, lingering, goodbye kiss. "Goodbye, love. I'll be back this afternoon." Severus sighed, but his eyes remained closed. Disappointed, Harry touched his cheek, loath to go but knowing he had to.

He was almost to the door when he could have sworn he heard Severus murmur, "Hurry home," but turning around, saw he was still asleep and knew it for the wishful thinking it was. "I promise," he whispered anyway and left the room.

****

Severus waited to hear the front door close before he rolled over flat on his back and let the despair roll through him. Harry was gone again and he'd done nothing to stop him. _'Stupid fool,'_ he thought savagely. He'd come sleepily awake when he'd felt him leave the bed after a pleasant dream of the two of them snuggled in bed together. 

He realised they probably _had_ been cuddled in bed. _'Double damn.'_ But he'd felt the purpose in Harry's movements as he got ready to leave and with great effort pretended to still be asleep. The kiss had left him hungry, the words gave him some small hope, and he'd not been able to resist begging him to come home soon. 

His lips still tingling from Harry's kiss, he looked at the clock and saw how late it was. _'Already mid-morning and I should probably get up--my social calendar is **so** full. What shall I do for my birthday today since I seem to have it all to myself this year?'_ He rolled out of bed, groaning, his body wanting something, someone, no longer there. He put on his dressing gown and went into the main room. He called down to the house-elves for breakfast knowing he'd already missed the meal in the Great Hall.

While he was waiting, he wandered aimlessly around the apartment, noting Cally was now sprawled comfortably in a sunspot. He secretly admired her hedonistic abandon; her body was stretched so far to get every spot of heat, she almost covered the small rug in the sitting room. Horatio was nowhere to be found. 

He stepped into his study and picked up the book off the desk. _'Not much use for it now,'_ he thought, depressed. As he prepared to put it on the shelf of books behind his desk, a piece of paper fluttered onto the floor from out of the front pages. Intrigued since he knew he'd left nothing in it, he bent to pick it up when Dinky, the house-elf who usually served him, appeared with a breakfast tray. Severus motioned him into the main room; the house-elf was silent as he'd been admonished many times in the past to not make a peep around him. He took the tray into the other room, leaving in a flash once the table had been set-up and prepared for Severus' morning repast.

Severus grunted his satisfaction and then picked up the paper on the floor. It was folded in half. He put the book back on the desk and opened what appeared to be a note. Inside the folds it read:

_Sorry Sev, I couldn't sleep and I couldn't resist. Perhaps we can put our heads together later this evening to 'discuss' the subject in greater detail. In the meantime, I left a few comments inside. Looks like a right giggle to me._  
_Harry_

Stunned, Severus picked up the book and thumbed through the pages at random while he slowly walked back into the main room. At first glance, he was overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of 'a few comments' Harry had made. Stopping at the table, he looked at the food waiting for him and back to the book in his hands. While he really wanted nothing more than to satisfy his curiosity as to what Harry thought would be 'a right giggle', he quickly decided he would probably be less distracted if he ate something first. Reluctantly, he set the volume aside and attacked his breakfast with a hunger he'd not had in a long while.

****

Harry stepped out of the Underground and let his eyes adjust to the bright light of a clear London morning. A short walk later he was near the dilapidated entry to St. Mungo's. A few tenement storefronts down, where there'd been once a small church, he entered the dilapidated doorway and found himself 'ported to the posh lobby of one the most prestigious publishing houses in Europe, Academia House. He rode the lift up to the third floor where he turned left off the empty lobby; the room was eerie when devoid of its usual bustle during the week.

Familiar with the route, he came to an office with the name "Hermione Granger Weasley, Editor, Potions" written on the door. He knew he was expected so, without knocking, he opened the door and stepped into her secretary's office. The door beyond, Hermione's inner sanctum, had been left open. Here he knocked on the half-open door and when he heard her "Come-in," he stepped through into the other half of Hermione's life.

_'For someone so brilliant, she's not very neat,'_ he thought stepping over a pile of papers to give her a hug. "How are you, Harry?" she began, clearing a place for him by removing another stack of papers from an overstuffed chair in the spacious office. He'd never seen so much paper in one place before. "And how is Severus?" she continued, making her way to the other easy chair already clear of debris and where she normally sat while reading manuscripts. She'd been having a spot of tea when he arrived and she hastened to pour him a cup as well, adding the milk and sugar she knew he took in it.

"I'm fine, he's fine, we're just not fine together," he said honestly, taking the cup from her.

She looked at him sharply, "You've not told him then?" She tsk'd at the shake of his head. "Honestly, Harry, you shouldn't abuse him this way."

He nodded and taking a sip realised, in a quick flash, that he much liked sex the same way he liked his tea--good and hot, not too sweet, and strong with a bit of cream on the side. He smiled into the cup and dismissed his wayward thoughts. Setting the cup aside, he replied, "I know, I plan on doing it tomorrow."

"Why not today?" She waved his response away, "Buttering him up with the party and your gift is not going to help, Harry. Only honesty will do the trick with him. You _know_ how much of a stickler he is for the truth."

"Hermione, you're not telling me anything I don't already know, and please spare me the lectures. Dumbledore has already given me a right twisting, thank you very much." He looked around the office, spying the Wizarding photo of Ron in easy sight. His face softened and he wondered how his friend was getting on.

He saw Hermione noticing where his glance went; she rarely missed much. Harry appreciated her trying to distract him from his obviously distressing thoughts when she said, "Well, I'm glad _someone_ is getting through to you. I don't want Severus any more upset than he already is. He's already behind on some papers he promised to critique for me. Not that we had any kind of formal agreement on it, but I need his particular expertise; this is the first time I have ever known him to be late."

"If that's the case, then I should probably hold off until he gets them done for you. I can't think he'll be any _less_ upset than he is now when I finally get to talk to him." He smiled ruefully at her exasperation. Hermione could always make him feel better. He picked up his tea and drained the cup. "I'm sorry I have to rush, but I still have to beetle over to Diagon Alley before this evening. Do you have it?"

Hermione reached over to another stack of books and plucked the top two off of the pile. They were huge, bound in fine natural Moroccan leather; a clasp of gold inset into each cover kept them closed when not in use. He reverently took them from her and ran his hands over the fine leather. He raised grateful eyes to her and said, "Two?"

"We decided to split them into Dark Arts and Light Magic Potions. He has such a huge body of work it was fairly easy, and they worked out to be about the same size. It will cost more to print them, but we expect higher revenues because we can capture the public market better if they're separate. And it will leave us open to adding more volumes as time goes by, so this could be a continuing set. Of course, the Ministry wants us to track who buys the Dark Arts book, but we're prepared to ignore them." She smiled, "That's assuming, of course, we can talk him into letting us publish it. Otherwise, this is a very pretty, very expensive vanity publishing you're financing, Mr. Potter."

"It doesn't really matter, Hermione, at least not to me." He cast her a sheepish look. "I have a lot to make up for, starting with the paper he wrote that I ignored to the dozen others he's kept quiet about in the ensuing years to spare my feelings. You have no idea how _much_ I have injured him."

"Well, either way, let me know; I'll keep the publishing hounds off your back. They're quite keen to print this, you know." She leaned over and patted his hand, giving him her full support with her eyes. "Don't worry, Harry. It'll work out fine."

"Thanks, Hermione, for everything." He stood to leave and cursing his weakness asked gently, "And Ron?"

"He's fine, Harry. He has his good days and his bad, but mostly good. He's in Russia right now at the Wizarding Chess Tournament. His second round scores have placed him in the top four, so he's made it to the Semi-Finals. He's coming back tonight so we can go to the party, and then it's back to Russia for us to see where he ends up. He's so excited and has done better than he'd dared hope."

Harry was genuinely glad to hear this. Ron was not the same man he'd been three years ago. He was very pleased to hear he was adjusting to his new life outside the Aurors. But things were still not fine between them and he felt his initial grin fade as his thoughts turned bleak. 

"Don't let it get to you, Harry. He still loves you and won't make a fuss tonight." He knew she said this to reassure him. "He'll come around some day."

"I certainly hope so, Hermione. I never meant--it doesn't matter--he's alive and healthy and with you. That's all that really matters, isn't it?"

"If you say so, Harry." She gave him another hug and a kiss on the cheek. He looked her in the eye and, nodding, left without a backwards glance.

****

Replete from his breakfast, Severus took the book with him from the table to his chair at the fireplace and settled back to see just what Harry thought was 'a right giggle'. He opened the book and methodically began to decipher the bright green notes left in Harry's small printing. _'His writing's improved,'_ he thought irrelevantly as he perused page after page. At times, he had to stop, laughing at Harry's comments, most of which echoed his own. When he finished reading all the comments, he rose from the chair and sat at his desk with _The Book_ (as he was starting to think of it in his own mind). He pulled out the quill and his blue ink, having run out of the red, and went to work trying to organise those notes into something he could use as a reference.

Cally chose that moment to wake up from her nap in the sun. Sauntering into his study, she stretched her way across the room in that loose limbed way all cats have and, bunching herself into a cat spring, jumped up into his lap in the minuscule space between his chest and the desk. He snorted in disgust as she kneaded his thighs trying to make a comfortable place to sit. He was about to concede defeat and move back a little for her when she tired of the game and hopped the few inches onto the desk where she proceeded to bat the feathered part of his quill.

He sighed heavily. "Will you stop that? I am trying to work here and I can't with you knocking the quill all over the paper." He blinked. "I can't believe I'm talking to a deaf cat," he muttered blackly. She settled primly on her haunches a few inches from the area where he was working, and after glancing at him, proceeded to watch with predator-like concentration the quill dance across the pages of the book.

He first circled in the Table of Contents those chapters Harry had made favourable comments on. The invisibility cloak, the fantasy section, foreskin play, and flavoured lubes seemed to top his list. He tended to twirl the quill whenever he stopped, and Cally would bat at it sometimes sending tiny droplets of ink across the pages. Of course, it went without saying, he could not possibly be doing it on purpose; Severus Snape did not play with cats.

Reading further, he found there were a few twists as well--mainly about the body piercings. While he found some of them attractive, he was a little shocked Harry would even consider them. _'Absolutely not something I could do to myself,'_ he thought with a shiver of distaste. _'Although, I can certainly see their appeal if that's what he wants to do._

He was reassured Harry's reaction was the same about 'the squid'.

He crossed out a few entries in the index. When he came to the section on _~Fingering Techniques~_ he thought Harry's comment about 'safety' was right in line with his own that a rim job looked easier (and safer). Cally jumped on the quill as it scratched the page to obliterate the entry from the index, so the entry squiggled across the paper as he fought to control the line he was drawing (and the small smile on his face).

It was obvious Harry had misunderstood his comments about _~Creative Uses of Voodoo Dolls~_. Harry was thinking of acupuncture while his thoughts had been limited to feathers and such. _'But if he insists--maybe a little demonstration instead?'_ He'd only been joking to himself about the _~Creative Uses for Testicle Cuffs~_ with his off-colour 'reminder' to go find them in the dungeons, but Harry had admonished him with a "_Don't even think about it!_"

The _~Foreskin Techniques: A Tongue's Guide~_ was covered in so much ink, it was hard to read. But Harry had problems with the _~Hickey-on-Your-Dickie~_, which Severus had thought was a possibility but would require some finesse. Harry had chided him, "_I thought we agreed--no visible marks. Remember?_" He thought, _'Why Not? It's not truly visible. No one would see it but me.'_

They were, however, in total agreement on the _~Bite-Me~ not to be confused with ~Gnaw-on-My-Bone~_; Severus was not sure he _could_ do it, Harry was appreciative he would not. The _~Pearls of Wisdom: The Value of Pre-come~_ was inane to them both. Harry's comment, "_Agreed! Gets too sticky after a while, anyway_," pretty much summed up his opinion as to its value as a lubricant.

He almost fell out of his chair when he read the innocent green ink on the chapter entitled, _~Egg Sucking Exercises~_. He'd thought the whole thing rather squidgey, but Harry was not daunted when he wrote: "_Don't bother--any more suction and you'll pull my balls out_." However, he had the feeling he'd rather shocked Harry under _~The Prostrate Prostate~_. He'd finally figured out a use for some of the _toys_ he'd seen in the Muggle Adult Stores and had noted it. Harry's response had been "_Toys, Sev? Is there something you're not telling me, here?_" His face held a positively evil grin. _'Maybe I should go back to get a few of the more 'interesting' ones and then ask Arthur for some of those batteries he has in his shed.'_

He accepted Harry's blatant apologies when he read the comments to _~When He Won't Come: Ten Tips to Speed Your Lover Along~_. Severus had written: "_If H went any faster, I'd have tongue burns_." Then there was the _~Fuck-My-Mouth~_ blow job. To both, Harry had written "_Sorry, Sev. Sometimes I just get carried away_." Cally had stretched out across the desk at the top of the book after tiring of her game with his feather. Severus idly scratched her ears as he thought, _'Yes, indeed he does. Not that I've ever complained.'_

Moving her paw off the page each time he turned one, he continued reading. Coming to the end of _The Book_, he concluded that the one making him feel the best was Harry's comments to the _~I-Don't-Want-to-Fuck-You-But-I'll-Feel-Guilty-If-You-Don't-Come-Blow-Job~_. Severus had thought he should note it in case Harry ever needed it for him. Harry had emphatically replied, "_Ah Sev! I will NEVER need this!!!_!"

Finally finished with the last of the notes and the comments, he sat back and thought about the whole thing, feeling much better. There were some scenarios he could work with here--or avoid. _'A squid?'_ After removing Cally's paw one final time, he closed _The Book_ with satisfaction and left it on his desk as he rose from the hard chair. Cally opened one eye to watch him stretch before leaving the room, and seeing him gone, curled around the top of _The Book_, her front paw possessive across the front cover. With a feline sigh of contentment, she went back to sleep.

Feeling almost optimistic, and given Harry's inference about further 'discussion' in his note, he wondered if he should get the invisibility cloak before, or after dinner.


	30. Part III An Empty Cheque

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Thirty : An Empty Cheque**

**21 June 2003** (Continued)

Harry Apparated into Diagon Alley directly from the publisher's offices after casting a 'Forget Me Spell' to keep from getting mobbed by well-wishers. He resized the books and put them in the inside pocket of his robes. He stood for a short moment pretending to be a rock in the middle of a stream as the throngs of shoppers split and passed him by. He decided he would go to the jeweler's first, so he would have an idea how much to withdraw from the vault. He'd made a fair amount of money during his schooling, but his more recent purchases and the cost of his education had put quite a dent in his earnings over the last four years, even if they had not touched the principle his parents had left him.

As he walked to the jewelers, he saw _The Prince's Albert_, a body piercing parlor that had opened the year before to the ridicule of the Wizarding Community. _'Seems to be doing a rousing business now, though,'_ he thought as he slowed to look through the large front picture window. Inside he saw several younger Wizards looking over the displays of hardware while their friend came out of a curtained room off the back, looking pale but proud. He stuck out his tongue at his friends for them to admire the new post he'd just had done.

Moving on, Harry chuckled. The image segued smoothly into a picture in his head from the book this morning in the technique section entitled _~How to Disengage Your Tongue Ring From His Prince Albert Wand~_. He shook his head remembering Severus' rather naïve comment, "_They MUST be joking!_", and his equally droll reply, "_I don't know, it's kind of cute_." He briefly wondered if Severus had found his notes yet. 

While the delicate task of separating the two pieces of hardware had looked like the ultimate mood killer, he had to admit the wand itself was interesting. There'd been another article in the practical section entitled _~The Don't-Swallow-My-Prince-Albert-Blow-Job~_. He knew Severus was going to throw a wobbly when he saw his note, "_Uh Sev, have you ever considered--? Never Mind--_". He laughed out loud as he walked towards the jewelers' picturing Severus' face should Harry ever get one. It earned him a strange look from a witch just leaving a nearby store.

****

The bell rang on the door and the proprietor, a goldsmith of some renown, noticed the young man step through and silently approved when he stepped to the side and patiently waited his turn behind another customer in the shop. 

When the witch (a dowdy old thing wanting something for her daughter's birthday) was finished with her small purchase and had left the store, the goldsmith wiped his hands on the striped apron he wore, a large smile splitting his jovial face. "Ah, Mr. Perkins. I see you got my Owl. Let me just nip in the back for them." He bustled to the rear of the store behind a curtain while the young man idly browsed the showcases, looking at all the fine pieces for sale.

Mr. Langley came out of the back with a double ring box of the kind he reserved for couples getting married. During the conversation with the young man last week, when he'd first brought the rings in for modification, the goldsmith had learned Mr. Perkins' paramour was male. While that had surprised him a bit, work was work, so he'd agreed to make the changes, telling the young man they would be an fine asset to the unusual, beautiful set of gold nuptial bands.

He set the box on the counter and pulled over a light ball to hover over it. Opening the box, the rings within sparkled in the augmented light against the black velvet lining. It had not been an easy job to take apart the Gimmal rings and add two bands each and then reweave them into a cohesive set, but it was well done if he did say so himself. He'd liked the challenge. Each of the other three bands had to be reshaped as well. He'd first stripped them of their original magic and then reassembled them with new spells, so they would bind as one to be used freely by another couple. Of course, he'd cleaned them all, polishing them until they gleamed.

The man took one of the sets out of its groove in the box and held it in his hand obviously awed at the flawless workmanship; Langley knew the snakes he'd had added as outer bands were life-like. Perkins commented, "The snakes--they're perfect. The whole thing is perfect. Thank you ever so much."

"Aye, you're welcome. I'll admit, I had a bit of help on the snakes. I copied them from a Celtic Glyph I have that was originally made for warding joined warrior partners," he said with some pride. "Do you want to see it?"

"Sure, that would be fine," he said intrigued.

They walked over to a case on the left, the light ball following the merchant. When he got to it, the young man immediately focussed on the heavy gold piece Langley was talking about. The two snakes, engraved finely in rounded relief, were entwined at the top and their delicately articulated bodies cascaded down the sides to tangle at the bottom in an intricate lover's knot. The snake anaglyph was laid over an ancient shield design made of more Celtic weaving. The entire filigreed design was repeated on the back. The general shape of the piece was round and measured about 2 inches in diameter with a loop at the top edge so it could be suspended from a chain. 

The goldsmith could tell the piece had caught his fancy. He was positive when asked, "Is it for sale?"

The goldsmith eyed him, noting his clothes and appearance. He was very young, maybe in his twenties, his face and hands soft and not used to hard manual labour. He'd paid the steep deposit for the rings without batting an eye. The robes he wore were expensively cut even if a few years old and maintained in the manner of one who has house-elves. Maybe he could afford it after all.

"Aye, it's for sale," was all he said, though.

Perkins tilted his head and considered his words, his voice not quite wary but not as cheerful as before. He cagily asked, "By the by, how much will I owe you for the remainder of the work on the rings? I'm sure the deposit just covered the cost of materials."

The smith named a sum that was reasonable given the workmanship. "And if I add the glyph?" he asked, holding his breath. The total sum was high, but Langley could tell he wanted the piece. "May I see it, please?"

Without hesitation, Mr. Langley took the amulet out of the case and handed it to Mr. Perkins. The moment it touched his hand with its heavy weight, Perkins jerked in surprise. He idly touched with his free hand the heavy fringe of hair covering his forehead and then looked closely at the object saying, "This talisman has great power in it--can you make it into a clasp for a heavy formal robe without disturbing its potential?"

The question took him by surprise. He thought about it a moment. As far as he could remember, it was inert. "Frankly, I didn't feel anything out of it. Perhaps, if you could tell me its _Schema_ I can work around it." He didn't hold out much hope--most Wizards didn't even know what a _Schema_ was; only a few Wizarding specialists, such as himself, worked with them.

Perkins put his other hand over the glyph; closing his eyes, he concentrated. Langley could almost see him delving into the object and within moments he'd opened his eyes, looking into the startled face of the goldsmith. "It was made with an _Iugia Proeliator Schema_ out of Scotland. I'm not sure you need more information than that, but it's all I can sense. Otherwise, it feels empty."

"No, that's enough information. I can look it up in my notes and work around it." He was amazed. This young one had some power to him.

"I have to go to Gringotts to get a draught. How long would it take you to make it into a brooch?" he asked, neglecting to mention the cost. Langley supposed he would get a blank cheque; he didn't seem bothered with the amounts named so far.

"About a week to do the job right. I could Owl you when the work is finished, so you could pick it up. I wouldn't dare send it by Owl, though; it's much too valuable."

Disappointed but overtly excited too, he told him that might be fine and left the bemused goldsmith standing at his counter wondering just who Mr. Perkins was.

****

Severus was prowling the shops in Diagon Alley looking for a gift for Harry. He had no idea what he sought other than he wanted a talisman, or something to which he could add a protection charm. The idea had occurred to him out of the blue while he'd been penning his comments and wouldn't shake off. He'd got dressed and headed to Hogsmeade first, thinking he would use a set stone. When he'd found nothing to his liking, he'd Apparated here to see if he could find something better. 

He'd started off thinking he was getting a birthday present for Harry. After all it was only a month away, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to get him a "just because" kind of gift. He'd never got him one before and he reckoned it was time he started. Which was how he found himself in a jeweler's shop specializing in wardable stones.

Not finding what he was seeking, he politely thanked the merchant and, turning on his heel, he started to leave the shop. As he approached the front door, he stopped short when he saw a young man striding down the street. Catching only a glimpse of him through the shop window before he disappeared out of sight, there was something about the younger man that drew his attention. Perhaps it was his confident walk, or his demeanor, tall and strong; whatever it was, it had reminded him of Harry. He shook his head at his fancy as he walked out the door into the street. As he suspected, he was long gone, the street now filled with people who did not interest him and, dismissing his thoughts, he moved on to the next shop down the Boulevard.

****

Right after Mr. Perkins had left, the bell of the shop rang again. Langley, just coming out of the back, saw an austere gentleman come into the shop; he looked vaguely familiar although the goldsmith could not begin to place him. With an acknowledging glance at the goldsmith and a nod, he started on one side and worked his way around silently; his hands behind his back in the manner of someone who does not wish to be disturbed. The owner moved to stand behind the center counter with a small box in his hand. He understood the posture well and watched the well-to-do man cruise his wares. He knew he may have made a sale when the tall man stopped and straightened, his hands coming forward to rest on the glass case as he bent to peer closer at an object within.

As Langley approached him, he saw the man had spied the gold piece Mr. Perkins had seen earlier and coveted. Almost to himself, the customer said quietly in a deep cultured voice, "Perhaps I could use this." Looking up at the merchant, he asked, "How much for this Celtic Warrior Glyph?" Langley couldn't read the degree of the man's interest, but took his cue from the overheard comment.

"1,200 Galleons, sir," he said with only a tiny wince. This was the piece the young man had said he might want. _'Wouldn't you know it. Can't move it for months and now I have two potential buyers in one day.'_

Nonchalantly, he said, "A bit steep. May I see it, please?" He'd made no other comment and didn't seem distressed, so the price was obviously not a problem, but the goldsmith was not fooled by his casual manner; this man was definitely interested in the piece. Langley unlocked the case and handed it to him, containing his excitement.

The man hefted the Talisman's silky weight, felt with both hands along its sides, let his fingertips slide delicately over the carved surface, and measured it with his dark eyes. He was obviously puzzled by something about it and held it for a long moment, thinking deeply.

Taking in the man's general appearance, from his lanky black hair to the finely tapered hands scrubbed unnaturally clean to the lingering whiff of herbs and magic about him, Langley realised this man made potions for a living. He chuckled to himself knowing that anyone who made potions to the obvious standard this man did (judging by the richness of his clothing and the precision of his hands) would have no trouble measuring the weight of the gold, to the grain, just by touch alone.

Langley watched him carefully, now knowing he was reading the amulet. Most people just heard the cost and walked away. It was a good price and he suspected this man would appreciate its value more than Mr. Perkins. _'Oh well, first come first served,'_ he thought, hoping he wouldn't lose both sales. The piece had been held for far too long as it was. He'd not known the loop he'd added would prove such a problem and resolved not to deal in antiquities again. At least, if he could sell it at his asking price, and this man looked like he liked to bargain hard, he could make a fair profit and be done with it. He'd deal with the younger one later.

"This piece is very old and genuine. I apologise; I thought it a reproduction when I first saw it. I admit to some curiosity, though. It's empty and uncharged, making it mint--yet the price you ask is much too low for such an object. What's wrong with it?" Before Langley could answer him, he held up a hand, forestalling any comment. He turned it over to scan the repeated design carved precisely on the back. He raised his brows at the heavy gold loop, its surface scaled like the snakes on the front, clearly a more recent addition welded neatly on the top edge making it ready for a chain.

"The loop is nicely done--whoever did this clearly knows his art but nothing about antiquities. I surmise this addition is what has substantially lowered the value?" At the goldsmith's nod, he continued, "To a true collector of such things the added loop ruined its worth as an original. To someone who just wants a fine piece the price is too high unless they can feel its other values. Truly a conundrum for you, of course, but it suits my purpose just fine."

The potion maker looked him in the eye; feigning indifference, he asked, "Will you take a draught?"

The shopkeeper hid his elation and asked with polite inquiry, "Drawn on Gringotts, sir?"

"Of course," he said, as if there was any other choice.

"Then yes, I can accept it."

"Good. Add a 30 inch gold chain suitable for a man, the weight, and the style of this object at no additional charge and I'll not dicker the price," he said, handing the piece back to him. He raised a brow, saying with some amusement, "Not that I don't enjoy a good haggle every now and again."

Mr. Langley breathed an inner sigh of relief and smiled. "Thank you, sir. I suspect 'a good haggle' with you would have left me substantially poorer," he said and turned to get the chain. He was rewarded for his bold words with a rich chuckle.

As he rummaged on one of the shelves behind him he suddenly realised who was at his counter. Severus Snape, one of the heroes of the war with Voldemort, rumoured to be a former Death Eater spy and a formidable Wizard. With this thought the austere face and manner now made some sense--there was a presence about him which spoke of secrets and old magic.

With a start he also realised the young man in here earlier, despite his different appearance, had been Harry Potter, not Mr. Perkins. He didn't know why he hadn't put the two together before, but he concluded with a chuckle that it didn't matter if the young man didn't buy the glyph--he would be receiving it soon enough, if he could make a guess, given the rings he'd just customized and the other rumours he'd heard. Well, it didn't matter--he'd keep their secret, as it seemed to be their wish, the world none the wiser. Besides, he would be a poor, unsuccessful jeweler if he hadn't learned discretion by now.

He put away the simple heavy chain he'd been about to take and went to a case on the other side where he kept the custom pieces. Opening the back, he pulled out a heavy gold chain done in the rounded serpentine method with each tiny link a snake's head swallowing the one before it. He held it up to the light comparing it to the glyph to test it as a potential match. Having walked to the other side of the store to stand in front of the case, Severus held out his hands and the merchant lovingly laid it across them for him to see it better.

Hefting its fine weight, he commented on the smoothness with which the links moved; there was no clasp. He raised a brow and eyed the merchant. "There is no magic in this piece, in itself unusual. The workmanship is exceptional and the suitability is undeniable. Did you work the gold yourself?"

"On this one, yes," the goldsmith answered with some pride. It was one of his finer works and had taken days to cast and assemble.

Severus looked duly impressed. "I'd wager there are not many left who can work gold with this level of craftsmanship and, I suspect, with no magic. Just like the loop on the glyph? You worked by hand?"

He looked sheepish and rubbed his neck, "Yes, sir. I had no choice in the matter of the amulet. I could have confused it had I used magic and made the piece worth only its weight in metal."

"You could have just removed it, none the wiser." Severus waited patiently for his reply.

"Well, yes, I suppose I could have but it wouldn't have been honest," he said with conviction.

Severus chuckled. "Nor would me taking this fine chain from you at no cost. What do you normally sell it for? 500, 600 Galleons?"

"500, sir."

"Then make the price an even 1,500 Galleons and I'll take both."

"That's more than fair, sir. Thank you. Would you like that boxed?" the goldsmith asked, taking the chain from Severus' hands.

"And wrapped if you will. It's a present for--a friend. I'll wait, if you don't mind."

"No problem, sir. Be back in a moment." Mr. Langley disappeared once again behind the curtain, his last glimpse that of a thoughtful Potions Master reaching for a quill to fill his empty cheque.


	31. Part III Filling Fare

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Thirty One : Filling Fare**

**21 June 2003** (Continued)

Harry laid out the table for supper still seething about the gold merchant in Diagon Alley selling his amulet to someone else before he'd come back with the draught from Gringotts. While he was glad the merchant got the full price out of it, the almost smug, dancing light in his eyes as he cheerfully told him it was no longer available for sale was a bit much to swallow without argument.

Then he laughed, laying the forks down, _'Right or left of the plates? I can never remember. Right, I think. It doesn't matter. I got the rings and the snakes look the same. It would probably have looked too much like a bribe anyway.'_ He already had his birthday present for Severus. One Harry hoped he'd like.

* * *

Severus arrived back from Diagon Alley and immediately went to the school's library to look up the spells he could use to ward the glyph. Given that he'd not known what type of talisman he would finally purchase, he'd had no preconceived notion about which one of the hundreds of spells available he wanted to use, although he knew the general type he would need. The only clear goal in his mind was he wanted to avoid the recurrence of a sickening incident that had cost him the life of one of his dearest friends, and a former lover, at the hands of the Dark Lord many years before. While Voldemort was obviously not a problem today, Severus was certain there were still others--and Lucius came immediately to mind--bent on Harry's destruction--and his own, if truth be told.

He bee-lined for the shelf in the Restricted Section holding several books with spells that would protect them both with only one talisman. In the last volume he found three incantations of differing intensity he thought would work, but, given the blatant differences in his and Harry's magical styles, each of them could be 'unpleasant' for him to perform and might require sacrificing the glyph in the final binding--something he was loath to do now that he had it in his possession. His aversion to losing it wasn't due to the cost of the thing--he could well afford it and for what he'd got, he almost felt like he'd stolen it from the goldsmith. No, it was because he'd always hated to see anything of beauty destroyed, let alone something as old and unique; there were few remaining of its caliber.

Finding no other wards meeting his requirements, and certain there were none in his private library, he chose the one affording the greatest protection. After checking the book out (and he was, once again, favourably reminded of Madame Pince's discretion), he decided to wait until Harry's birthday to cast the spell; it would give him some time to prepare himself for the ordeal. _'However, no matter how painful it might become, it will be a small, temporary price to pay for the peace of mind it will bring to both of us once completed successfully. Now all I have to do is get around Harry's stubborn irritation when others want to protect him.'_

He'd gone straight away to the Great Hall for dinner, the book shrunk in his pocket, but a quick glance at the Head Table from the staff room door had shown him no Harry. Disconcerted by Harry's continuing absence, Severus left without entering and decided to take a detour to their quarters with the hope that Harry was waiting for him so they could to go to dinner together. He arrived at their quarters at half past six, his stomach roiling with hunger. He'd no more stepped through the door when his nose was assailed by delectable smells coming from the other room. _'Harry has dinner here,'_ he thought, toeing off his shoes. A second, more urgent, hunger warred with the first, neither of which had been filled much lately.

Harry popped his head out of their dining nook. "Ah, you're here--finally. If you don't mind, I thought I'd surprise you with a little intimate dinner. Please tell me you haven't eaten."

"Not in quite a while, actually," he couldn't help muttering to himself and with a little more volume, continued, "No, I came here straight away when I didn't see you in the dining hall. It smells delicious."

"Excellent. I was worried when you were so late." Harry sauntered towards him, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm sorry I had to leave earlier this morning; I really did try to wake you, but you were so tired--" He stopped close to him, his hands running lightly down Severus' arms. "Happy birthday, love," he murmured, his hands sliding sensuously up his lover's chest. Harry buried his hands in Severus' hair, pulling his head down so he could feather his lips with soft kisses. Severus groaned and pulled him into his arms tightly, holding him arched against him. The deepening kiss they shared began to make up for his absence today. Severus lost all desire for food with the warm feel of a pliant Harry secure in his arms, his eager mouth and facile tongue a different sustenance, an imminently satisfying one upon which Severus wanted to feast.

Severus finally broke off the kiss, needing to catch his breath a moment. He was about to go back for seconds when Harry put his hand up to Severus' lips and then to his shoulder. "Come, Sev, let's eat our dinner while it's fresh and hot. The wait will make the dessert all the sweeter."

Severus growled deep in his throat and, raising a brow, replied almost playfully, "And what if the birthday boy wants his cake and ice cream first? Hmm?" Not waiting for an answer, he held Harry's head and went back to plundering his mouth. When Harry's fingers tightened almost painfully in his hair, his lips crushing, Severus dropped his hands to mold Harry's arse and pulled the lithe body taut against him, feeling Harry's answering response with relief. Given the way Harry was straining against him while making those soft mewling sounds that always drove him crazy, Severus' need grew most urgent; he could wait for the other dinner.

Or so he thought. He was about to carry Harry, forcibly if necessary, to their bed chamber, when Severus' empty belly broke the moment by complaining loudly, rumbling and gurgling insistently between them. Harry pulled away, somewhat dazed but grinning, his eyes glittering with amusement. After he'd gathered some sense, he laughingly said, "Seems the birthday stomach has some other ideas."

Taking Harry's lips again in mute argument, Severus was determined to ignore his other hunger, but then his native common sense, not to mention his still grumbling belly, sonorously made the choice for him. He reluctantly loosened his arms, the mood totally broken. He ruefully smiled, saying, "Seems you may have a point. All right, I concede--dinner first, but I still want my afters."

"Oh, absolutely. Dessert is always the best part of any complete and balanced diet." Grinning, Harry let him go with a light kiss to his cheek and, taking his hand, brought him to the table where Severus stole a 'seared' appetiser before resigning himself to the delay.

Seating himself across from Harry, he thought, _'However, I have been without for more than two weeks. I think I can restrain my impulses for a few more minutes, hours, whatever.'_ Finally taking in his surroundings, he was pleasantly surprised to see how much care Harry had taken to set the table. From the formal damask cloth and heavy, heirloom silver he usually had stored away in a forgotten cabinet, to the red wine served in long-stemmed crystal sparkling in the soft candlelight, he appreciated the time Harry had obviously taken to make it special.

As they began to eat, quietly talking about nothing of particular import, he chuckled when Harry's feet joined his under the table, settling lightly on top, rubbing gently. As Severus sipped the rich, fruity wine, Harry's roguish half-smile, seen over the rim of the goblet, did much to ease his previous concerns and, setting the glass back down with a smile of his own, he tucked into his food with a lighter heart.

The simple meal was excellent and Severus had to admit, but certainly not out loud, that the real food before his much anticipated 'dessert' had probably been one of Harry's better ideas; he'd not eaten since his late breakfast. He was about to ask what was on the menu for the last course of the evening when his plate popped out of sight to be replaced by a fancy bow on the table. He was pleased and smiled over at Harry, saying, "Ah, a present. I'd almost forgot it's my birthday today."

Harry laughed and said with a mischievous grin, "Not likely. Well, go on now, open it."

Severus picked up the huge bow, looking it over, and was soon a bit mystified. There was nothing attached to it. It was just a bright red bow with two open ends sticking out. He raised quizzical eyes to Harry who chuckled wickedly, saying, "No, there's another bow, for me, in the bedroom, and I'll let you place it anywhere you like. Later. This one, however, you just need to open."

"Open? How?" Severus had never opened just a bow before.

"You know, pull the ends--like a cracker." Harry explained, his eyes alight with what Severus took to be keen anticipation.

_'It's something special then,'_ he thought, saying, "Ah, I see." He pulled the ends and he sat back in surprise as the thing exploded with a loud bang, filling the area with coloured smoke and small bits of confetti raining down on him. Where the bow had been was a fairly large package in gayly patterned paper with a bright blue ribbon wrapped all around it. "Now this is familiar."

He tugged and worked the ribbon off the present and started to carefully peel the paper back off of the heavy gift, which he was sure were books, when a fragment from birthdays past came to him and, losing his restraint and feeling a bit foolish, he ripped the paper off with apparent careless abandon, throwing it to the floor. Noting the satisfied, silly grin on Harry's face, he lost some of his embarrassment at the excessive display--it now seemed such a small thing to please Harry. And as he had thought, he had two fine, matching books in front of him and a thickish envelope on top with Harry's distinctive scrawl on it. It said:

> _Sev--Open this packet_ before _you pick them up_.

Running his fingers over the covers, he decided to humour Harry even though it was his birthday and his fingers itched to pick up the two volumes; he loved fine books. Sliding his finger in the flap, he opened it and removed a note and another, smaller, envelope from inside. He laid the second envelope aside and opened the first note which read:

> _21 June 2003_  
_My dearest Severus_,
> 
> _Maybe, I should not have given you these for your birthday_.  
_Maybe, I should have given them to you 'just because'_.  
_Maybe, I should never know_.
> 
> _This is an apology, from me to you, for a potions paper I should not have dismissed_.   
_This is for all the subsequent papers you kept quiet about to spare my feelings_.  
_This is for all the times I didn't tell you just how proud I was of you_.
> 
> _I am, you know_.
> 
> _Love,_  
_Harry_

He raised questioning eyes to Harry and was surprised to see the green ones brimming. Looking away, Harry was unable to meet his gaze. "Go on," Harry said hoarsely. "Please, open the other envelope."

He picked up the second envelope and looked at the front. He snorted when he read:

> "_No, you may not look at them yet! Please read this first_."

He was a bit concerned about Harry, who was still not making eye contact with him, but he had a feeling those eyes would once again turn his way once he left them alone to read the contents of the envelope in his hands. He opened the heavy, creamy stock; the paper was a joy to touch as he rubbed it between his fingers. He pulled out a single page written in an elegant hand with navy blue ink; he recognised the writing immediately as Hermione Weasley's, with whom he worked on occasion when he published papers in the various journals she represented. The letter was on Academia House's letterhead--the flag representing their company was waving in the top right corner of the paper.

> _20 June 2003_
> 
> _Re: Galley Proofs_
> 
> _Dear Professor Snape:_
> 
> _It is with the greatest of pleasures I present to you this two volume set of Galley Proofs of your collected works and papers written throughout your long and distinguished career as a Potions Master. The set was initially assembled at the request of Mr. Harry Potter, who charged us to find "everything" and pull it all together into one place_.
> 
> _I assure you, the task was more difficult than it first appeared; however, we believe we have managed to find "everything," including four very promising early pieces written in your Sixth and Seventh Years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry which were published in the now defunct "Potions Monthly". If, after perusal, you find we have missed any you wish included, please send it to me at the address above and I will ensure it is edited properly and included prior to any publication_.
> 
> _Which brings me to the other issue of this communication. When Mr. Potter first approached us to commission the search, we frankly assumed it would amount to a vanity publishing, as it is called, a single printing of a few volumes for a private collection(s). However, after reviewing and editing the work, Academia House has concluded these assembled papers represent an important, vital, scholarly work which can only enhance and advance the Potions profession as a whole_.
> 
> _As such, we humbly request the honour of publishing this body of work and sincerely hope you will consider our House should the notion of publication interest you. I am prepared, at any time, to discuss with you the terms of publication and personal remuneration, as well as any editing you may wish to have done or undo. I look forward to hearing your response at your earliest convenience_.
> 
> _Your obedient_,
> 
> _Hermione Granger Weasley_  
_Academia House Publishers_  
_Editor-in-Chief, Potions_

Severus looked up from the letter, stunned. Harry was not in his chair; he was standing near the window looking out. He always did that when he was either upset or needed time alone to think. Severus looked back at the handsome volumes and with shaking hands he picked up the first one, his fingers reverently smoothing the fine leather, his nose inhaling the rich smell. The cover was blank and he turned the book to look at the spine:

> **The**  
**Collected Works**  
**of a Potions Master**  
**1976 to 2003**
> 
> **Volume I**  
**Light Magic**
> 
> **Prof.**  
**Severus**  
**Snape,**  
**M.P., SCL**

He touched the gold clasp on the front and the book opened to the front page. He slowly flipped through the volume, stopping now and again to read small random sections, never dreaming the rolls of parchments on his credenza could have ever amounted to this many pages. The redolence of fresh printer's ink, mingled with the husky smell of the leather, and the clean scent of fresh cotton rag paper filled his senses. Overwhelmed, he put the book down and looked through the second one in much the same manner as he had the first. It had the almost the same title as the other one, only it read, Volume II: Dark Arts.

He set it down carefully on top of the other book and sat there for some long minutes lost in thought and memory. Coming back to the present with some resolve, he stood from the table and quietly walked over to where Harry was still standing at the window. He came behind him, sliding his arms around Harry's waist. Placing a soft kiss on his nape, he rested his cheek on his shoulder. Harry's hands came up and covered his, the fingers lightly stroking. They stood quietly like this for an interminable time.

"When I was young," he began softly, raising his head, "I wanted nothing more than to make a name for myself. I wanted to show the rest of the world that Severus Snape had value. That I was not the worthless human being my parents had told me I was, nor was I the object of ridicule my peers showed me I was." He snorted lightly. "You have seen some of my memories and know how successful I was in _that_ endeavor."

He lightly kissed Harry's neck, pulling him closer, gathering his thoughts and his composure. "When I was older and finished with school I wanted the regard of my peers and an honest recognition of my efforts." He sighed, "And once again I failed, for all I bore was a skull on my arm and the misunderstanding and suspicion of my colleagues."

"And now--" he hesitated and continued softly, "--yes, now." He kissed the soft spot under Harry's ear, his arm coming up to wrap around Harry's chest and shoulder. "I have never felt more valued in my life than when I am with you. And I have no idea what I did right this time."

He gently turned Harry until he was facing him, the eyes still suspiciously bright, making them points of green light in the glow of the candles behind him. He pulled him close, their arms tight around each other. "Gods, Harry. What a magnificent gift you have given me. The culmination of a lifetime of wanting and wishing. All come true. Thank you."

He loosed him enough to kiss him. A deep, healing kiss, Severus tried to convey, with feather touches and warm loving lips, all the love he felt for Harry, knowing he should say it aloud, but something, some unfinished part of him, always held him back. Eventually, they found themselves curled together on the couch in the sitting room, Harry nestled securely into Severus' side, both dipping every so often to taste the other, but mostly content to just be together, to feel the other's presence, taking strength and comfort from it.

Dessert, it seemed, was momentarily forgotten in their pursuit of other, more filling fare.

* * *

TBC


	32. Part III Severus Gets Detention

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

* * *

_Edited for FF.net--just a little--702 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.  
  
I apologise if this "feels" choppy, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, the full version is available at my site._

* * *

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Thirty Two : Severus Gets Detention**

**21 June 2003** (Continued)

Harry gradually regained his senses and, looking at the clock on the mantel, realised they would have to leave fairly soon if they were to make it to the party on time. Snuggling closer, which earned him a pleasant nuzzle on the top of his head, he was so comfortable, so content, he briefly toyed with the idea of calling it off even as he prepared to get up. However, when Severus' fingers tenderly shifted his head and his lips engaged Harry's mouth in a sweet, serious kiss, Severus' hand gentling his face, Harry easily forget his earlier thoughts about leaving, surrendering instead to the warm affection Severus was so unstintingly giving him.

When Severus ended the kiss with lingering touches of his lips and fingertips across his lover's face, Harry sighed contentedly and settled his head back into 'his' hollow, his thoughts, for once, quiet and peaceful. He played over again in his mind the timbre of Severus' voice while they'd stood at the window, the words he'd used to tell him how pleased he was with his gift, and the unspoken feelings of love Severus had expressed with the kiss they'd shared afterwards, which he still felt now, wrapped securely in Severus' embrace. Inside, he felt warm and safe and very loved right now, a feeling he could want forever, but while his head knew he could only have it for a little while longer, his heart intended to savour it for as long as he could hold it.  
  
A small time later, with barely concealed regret, Harry yawned and stretched and unfolded himself from the cozy nest they'd made on the couch. Severus let him go with a question in his eyes and, at his significant glance, chuckled. "Can't even hold you against a call of nature can I?" Harry laughed, glad he'd misunderstood but realising he needed to go anyway. Walking stiffly to the loo gave him an idea of how to lure Severus out of their quarters.

When Severus was on his own way back, Harry suggested with a wicked grin, "I'm stiff from sitting so long. What say you we take a short walk to loosen up and see who we can catch out now, since it's after curfew, before we come back for our just desserts?"

Severus considered it a moment, tilting his head. "I'm a little 'stiff' myself. Perhaps not the way you imply; however, I can't see why not. A little exercise might do our 'appetite' good." Harry chuckled at the double entendre and they left on their walk.

Just past the Great Hall, Severus casually remarked, "With the new summer school in session, I find it ironic to be walking the school corridors with you, trying to catch students doing the same things I want to do to you right now." And without any further warning, he grabbed Harry around the waist and whirled him, laughing breathlessly, into a nearby niche behind a huge column, where in short order, he had Harry breathless in a much different way. Severus seemed to have quite a bit of unexplored experience in pinning someone to the wall as he was all too willing to demonstrate. He soon had Harry writhing against him, his thigh firmly planted between Harry's legs.

Harry was almost undone and was kneading Severus' cheeks through his trouse beneath his robes, trying to pull him closer as he was devoured by Severus' hungry, crushing kiss, when he muzzily heard someone shout, "Hey! What's going on here?"

Severus swirled around faster than thought, standing protectively in front of Harry, his wand drawn. Fumbling out his own wand and holding it ready, Harry peeked around Severus' arm and choked back his laughter; Stanley, the newest Hufflepuff Prefect was cowering in front of them, his gaping mouth opening and closing on words Harry suspected he would never utter. Given the terror on the boy's face, he could only imagine the scorching glare Severus must be levelling at him.

His suspicions were confirmed when Severus, in one of his quieter, deadlier tones (usually reserved for those unfortunates who exploded a potion all over him) rasped, "Mr. Tools, I assume you have business elsewhere?" When he received no response, Severus continued, a little louder, "As in now?" Harry felt Stanley's eyes light on him and widen a split second before he started stammering apologies, all the while backing out of the way. Once clear of the column, he almost stumbled in his haste to tear off down the hallway.

When he was well away, Harry leaned back against the wall and lost it, holding his sides in his mirth. Severus turned around, his face bearing one of his best 'raised-brow-I-can't-believe-that-just-happened' smirks, which soon turned into one of his rarer grins. Before long, they were laughing themselves silly. Harry remarked, "I would have paid good Galleons for a snap of that poor boy's face! Such an interesting shade of red."

Severus concurred and added, "While his form down the hallway was a bit ragged, he made good speed."

It had taken them several moments to get their breaths back and ease their aching sides, during which Harry speculated, "I wonder how his tale will go down in the common room tonight."

"Probably not as well as I will in our room tonight," Severus quipped without losing a beat.

Feeling his body heat-up from the smouldering look in Severus' eyes, Harry leant against the wall. Severus stalked him, his eyes never leaving his face until he stood almost close enough for their bodies to touch. Harry felt anticipation thrill through him when Severus placed his hands on the wall on either side of his head and bending his head, just so, brushed his lips over Harry's, so softly Harry wondered breathlessly if he'd imagined them. Severus dipped lower, his next kiss firmer, his tongue ghosting over Harry's lips. He opened his mouth to him and pleasure exploded through Harry as Severus slid his tongue in, ever so slowly, softly lapping the inside of his mouth, stroking Harry's tongue. Breaking the kiss, their lips parted with a soft smacking noise. Severus drew a huge breath and letting it out all at once, whispered, "And that is only the appetiser." Harry closed his jaws with a snap and gulped, his resolve to continue their walk fading fast as a shiver shook him when Severus buried his face in his neck.

At that moment, he wished with all his heart they were not going to the party, that it had all been a figment of his imagination. He wanted to be lying in bed naked with Severus, to savour the sweetness. But alas, he knew it was an empty desire. They would have to go. Shaking the reluctance away with a rueful sigh, he reluctantly lowered his head and loosened his arms. Severus pulled back, his eyes coloured with an amused triumph. Harry gestured with his hand to the hallway, saying, "After you?" With one final kiss, almost a peck, Severus preceded him into the hallway. Harry followed him a bit unsteadily and grinned to himself. _'Just an appetiser, eh, Severus? Just you wait until I serve the main course.'_

And so it was with great relish Harry observed the incredulous look on Severus' face when he went straight forward, resuming their walk away from their quarters. To confound him further and with a hidden secret smile, Harry started knocking on all the doors they passed. "Why are you doing that?" Severus asked, mystified.

"Oh, I just thought I'd scare the life out of anyone in there; these are the most-used Gryffindor trysting rooms." At the predatory gleam in Severus' eyes, Harry thought, _'Oops, probably shouldn't have told him that,'_ saying, "Now, Severus, behave." He grabbed him around the waist and, looking around the hallway to make sure they were alone, planted a firm kiss. "I can see I'm going to have to keep you better occupied just so future generations of Gryffindors can have some 'piece'."

Severus laughed, stealing Harry's breath away with a serious kiss. "Let's go back," he murmured. "I find myself ravenous for dessert."

Wanting nothing more himself, Harry regretfully knew there would be a small delay. There'd even be dessert there as well; however, he suspected it would not be the kind to which Severus was referring. Seeming to comply, Harry nodded and they headed back the way they'd come.

As they passed by one of the trysting rooms, Severus suddenly stopped and stiffened, his attitude one of listeninge. "Did you hear that?" he asked Harry quietly, the 'Evil-Potions-Master-stalking-wayward-students' gleam in his eye. Harry knew he would feel good to catch some students for old time's sake.

"Hear what?" Harry asked innocently. He'd given the signal--he certainly hoped there was a noise.

"Giggling, I definitely heard giggling." Severus wore a small smile. "From over there. One of those two rooms." There was another giggle quickly suppressed.

"Oh, c'mon Sev, surely we can leave them in peace?" he asked, knowing what the response would be. Severus loved to catch out the students and since it had been so long since he'd done so, Harry could see where he might regard this as a special birthday treat.

Severus said as much and moved to the left-hand door. Harry, right by his side, barely contained his almost tangible excitement. Severus' hand turned the knob and, pulling out his wand, they entered the darkened classroom. The room was utterly silent, until Severus murmured "_Lumos_." In the light of the wand, Harry could see the room was empty save for the undisturbed dust and cobwebs hanging from the corners.

Severus muttered, "_Nox_." Harry heard his disappointed sigh in the darkness. Unexpectedly grabbing Harry despite the dark, he whispered, "Now where were we?" as he pulled him into another back bending, heart-stopping kiss.

_'I wonder if this is what Albus had in mind when he was talking about leaving some spontaneity in the party?'_

A blaze of light filled the room as a large group of people materialised shouting "SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

They froze for a moment and then jumped apart, hearts pounding, much to the overt delight of their friends and the graduate students all standing together with gleeful grins on their faces. Dumbledore headed the group.

"Tsk tsk. Snogging in a classroom, Professor Snape?" Dumbledore smiled wickedly, arching a brow. "Shame on you. And in front of the students to boot. That's definitely worth a week's detentions, I should think, although I'm tempted to award Slytherin an extra 100 points for outstanding form and a brilliant execution." He laughed merrily and Harry had a hard time suppressing his own grin while Severus' face changed expressions as he registered the comment. Dumbledore continued, "Happy Birthday, my boy. I hope we didn't embarrass you overmuch."

The silence stretched and McGonagall, eyeing the final stunned look on Severus' face, broke it, saying, "My, my--Severus Snape bereft of words--someone alert the media."

"Oh he can speak, Minerva," Moody piped up from behind, "but ye have to give him a break. He just got his mouth back from Harry here."

The whole group cracked up, even Severus, who still wore a bemused expression. Recovering his aplomb, he turned to Harry. "Your idea?" he drawled like this was the most normal thing in the world to have an intimate embrace broken by a surprise birthday party. Mundane--something he did everyday.

Harry openly grinned at him and nodded, then gestured to Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Aided and abetted by your colleagues."

"Why am I not surprised?" he chuckled.

"Oh I think you're surprised all right, Severus, but not perhaps in who the mischief makers are." Dumbledore was beaming, visibly pleased by the whole thing. He leaned over to Harry, his beard tickling, and whispered, "See, I told you not to plan too much, otherwise we would have missed the sweet icing on the cake. I'm glad to see you both together." Harry shot him a wild-eyed look and nodded.

"Speaking of cake," he said to the group, straightening, "the house-elves had entirely too much fun this afternoon with yours, Severus. Come." Harry noted the mystified looks the Headmaster was getting as he moved to the back of the room. He stood to the side and let the others precede him.

* * *

Making his way over to the cake, Severus' progress was impeded by the open greetings from everyone he passed; if nothing else, this celebration had opened his eyes to the number of people who considered themselves his friends. He was unused to being the center of attention; he had avoided it plainly for many years, first for survival, later out of habit. He saw Harry standing to the side, alone, a satisfied grin on his lips; he knew then for sure--these people had not come for Harry but for him.

He tried to relax, determined to have a good time, even if it killed him. Someone pressed a glass of punch in his hands out of a large punchbowl sitting on a table at the back of the room surrounded by cups and plates, a huge glittering cake, and a mound of presents. _'Presents?'_ That probably startled him more than anything else. He took a sip of the punch and almost spit it out; Moody had made his infamous Yellowtail Punch--guaranteed to 'Put Hair On Your Chest' as Moody was wont to say. A mumbled spell removed the alcohol; the one sip had been more than he normally consumed in a week.

With the press of people, the bright lights, the balloons waving in the air, and the surreality of the whole evening, starting with the books Harry had given him, he was overwhelmed. It was too much at once and he had to swallow hard against a rising panic to get out of the room. Almost as if summoned, he felt the familiar hand on his back absently stroking small circles, while the body attached to the arm pressed softly to his side without any fuss. He instantly felt better, like an anchor had been cast to stop the manic movement of the moment.

Dumbledore nodded at him from across the crowd and called for everyone's attention; Severus assumed it was to give him some time to calm down. "My friends, we are here tonight to celebrate the 44th year of our friend and colleague, Severus Snape. As I am not one for long-winded speeches," Severus snorted and felt Albus' baleful eyes on him as he continued, "I ask you all--Cake or Presents?"

It was unanimous--presents first. Dumbledore conjured a large wing-back chair for Severus, a stuffed chair for himself, and more regular seating for the guests so all could be comfortable; there was quite a pile to go through. He gestured Harry to take a seat on the arm of Severus' chair, which he did with a raised brow. Severus felt the panic rise again as everyone crowded close to see what he got and he tamped it down fiercely. While everyone was distracted by Dumbledore choosing the order of the gifts, Harry bent down, his hand on Severus' arm, and quietly asked him, "Are you all right?"

Whispering in his ear, Severus replied, "It's like I can't breathe; I don't understand why I'm having this reaction. I've been in crowds of unwashed Death Eaters with nary a twitch. One would think by now I wouldn't need a keeper."

Harry whispered back, "I wouldn't worry much about it. Besides, I rather like the idea of 'keeping you'."

Severus was startled by his words and knew the look he gave him was a bit wild-eyed, but then thinking on the implications of Harry's double-edged words, he settled back in his chair (and he had to admit Dumbledore had a way with them) with a soft chuckle, wondering when Harry had got so clever with his speech.

The first present sailed smoothly through the air towards him, compliments of Albus. Severus took the heavy package as it drifted by and opening the the small card on top, read it out loud, "To: Professor Snape, From: The Weasleys--Felicitations and Many Happy Returns." Everyone groaned as he started his normal method of peeling the paper back, so he ripped into it, deciding Potter's preferences might not be so odd after all. He pulled the lid off a sturdy wooden box and found a dozen bottles of his favourite red ink packed in excelsior. Since the labels were neatly hand-written, he could only assume they had made it themselves. He was touched--the making of red ink was labourious and tricky. He held out his hand to Molly in a most un-Snape like manner and when she took it, Arthur looking pleased, he said, "Thank you very much; the gift is timely as I ran out yesterday." He glanced sharply at Harry who was laughing silently and chuckled himself recalling exactly _why_ the ink was gone.

The next gift was also from "The Weasleys", this time from Ron and Hermione. He ran his hand reverently over the cover of the old tome; he'd never before seen the rare book on Egyptian potions. He quickly leafed through the book remarking, "Truly an asset to my collection." Before he could look at it in greater detail, another present floated in front of him. Hermione and Ron laughed when he muttered, "All right, all right, old man. I get the idea--move along." He thanked them both as he grabbed the next package out of the air. It was squashy with a thick envelope.

He plucked the envelope off the top, setting the limp wrapped gift in his lap. Opening it, he gasped as he read the top note. Harry leaned over slightly to read it. Severus heard Harry's breath hitch as he read:

> _21 June 2003_  
_Dear Severus:_
> 
> _I uncovered this a few weeks ago when going through Sirius' things after your last attempt to retrieve him from behind the Veil failed. I hesitated giving this to you on your birthday, but given the other things we shared, it seemed appropriate, somehow, and I wanted a way to show that your efforts are always appreciated_.
> 
> _Happy Birthday, and many returns_.  
_Remus Lupin_

Severus could feel the weight of Harry's stare. Taking the second note out of the envelope, his heart almost stopped while he read it. He set it down in his lap. Lost in his memories, he was barely aware of Harry's ambivalent reaction to the knowledge contained within the first. Wordlessly, he handed the second note to Harry, knowing he could not keep it from him, although he would like nothing better than to do so. He opened the package with care already knowing what was within. And once the shimmering folds of the invisibility cloak were revealed, he grasped it to his chest, his knuckles white, as he strove to keep his emotions in check to hide the loss and what it had meant to him then and now. He glanced quickly up at his lover, whose face was bleak. Severus could almost remember every word by heart:

> _12 January 1996_
> 
> _Remus_,
> 
> _I hate this house--Grimmauld Place, indeed. It seems so empty with everyone gone. Kreacher has been ignoring me and, of course, Moody and Tonks and the others come and go, but I tell you I am bored out of my skull! So I decided to do a little housekeeping myself and have parcelled out some of my things in case something happens to me_.
> 
> _I even miss Snape, the greasy git, if you can believe it, although if I hear "Mangy Mutt" or one of his "serious" jokes one more time, I may have to hurt him. I was thinking--you know, he almost got caught the last two times he went out and even now he's out doing gods know whatever Dumbledore has him doing. Always was one for doing the noble thing, our Snape. Don't tell him I said so, (not that he'd believe you) but I always secretly admired his ability to fade in and out of a room with no one the wiser. Almost like a snake--guess that's why_ he's _the Slytherin_.
> 
> _I'm rambling, been doing that a lot lately. Anyway, I was thinking, if something happens to me would you give this to the auld sod? No need to pass on any of this other stuff--wouldn't do to have him think I don't dislike him as much as everyone thinks I do, now would it? Not that he doesn't already know, long ties and all that rot! Maybe this'll keep him out of trouble (or in it, HA!)_.
> 
> _Thanks mate_,
> 
> _Sirius_

He felt Harry gently comb his fingers through his hair, a world of sympathy and love conveyed with that simple touch. Severus touched Harry's hand where it had settled on his shoulder, a subtle reminder, well taken by both, that there were others around. With a squeeze, Harry withdrew his hand into his lap. Severus rose from the chair, leaving the cloak behind. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry reach for it and somehow knew that when he returned both notes and cloak would be put away, out of sight; for this he was grateful.

Severus stood before Remus. There were no words, only a silent communication of tormented eyes. Remus was right. The last attempt had been final; there was nothing they could do. Sirius was beyond their help.

Remus embraced him hard and quick. "Thank you," Severus whispered and nodding, walked away, feeling Remus' surprise follow him like a lost puppy. He almost cringed as his mind supplied the next line in the old joke--a lost mangy puppy.

Severus was trying to think through a way to get things back on an even keel when Ron broke the moment for him when he groaned, "Merlin, none of the students will be safe now!"

Everyone laughed nervously, including Severus sitting down in his chair again, glad the moment was gone. A quick glance at Harry assured him he was fine, if a bit shook up. He quickly looked away from Harry's questioning eyes. _'Time enough for explanations later. He won't be pleased.'_

Tonks handed him the next package--a very small parcel with a dead insect hanging off like a tag. Severus reared his head back when he saw the dead Buggle, an insidious creature infesting Grimmauld Place; he was allergic to it. Harry reached over and pulled it off, chuckling, knowing Severus couldn't even touch it, dead or alive, without a reaction. "I am assuming there's a reason for this--thing?" Severus asked Tonks with a mock-growl.

"Just open the package." She giggled, her hair a shocking pink tonight.

Inside was a bottle containing a pearly orange liquid. Severus unstoppered it, sniffing delicately. "Repellant?" he asked.

"You're so sharp," she said admiringly. "Took us four tries to get it right, but it works. Try it."

He shrugged and rubbed a small drop of the lotion on the back of his hand. Waiting a few seconds to make sure there was no adverse reaction to the lotion itself, he nodded. Harry took the dead Buggle and passed it once across the treated skin. Nothing happened. Severus looked up at Tonks. "Did you save the formula? Can't stand the little buggers."

Moody spoke up, "You're welcome, you auld sod. Tonks here didn't mention we all had to test it. Nasty stuff it is to make, too."

Severus asked, dryly, "Does your presumption mean I don't have to thank you now?" As Moody grinned cheekily and blew him a raspberry, Tonks groaned and rolled her eyes. Severus shook his head--such strange people he called his friends, but good.

Dumbledore stepped up in front of Severus and handed him, out of the sight of most of the guests, a small heavy piece of paper folded in half, saying, "Happy Birthday, friend." Severus flipped it open and read the two words on it: '_Reperio Aperio_'. He looked at Dumbledore quizzically. "A spell--one of my better ones, I might add, to help you find _things_ you've lost. Use it with the _name_ of the article you can't find and you'll always know where to retrieve it." Bending down, he whispered conspiratorially, "Or him."

He caught his drift and nodded his thanks. He'd talk to Dumbledore about it later.

Dobby, who was unable to attend, gave him a pair of hand-knitted socks in bilious green and fire orange with winged cauldrons. Severus smiled and couldn't decide if he was more relieved because of Dobby's absence, or because he knew he would never have to endure his gift, except when forced to see them on Harry's feet; the little thief who shared his bed, constantly stole his warmest socks as much as he stole his heart.

The Hogwarts' staff gifted him with a fully paid weekend holiday for two on Magic Island. He thanked them, saying he'd never been there before and looked forward to it. When Harry expressed his gratitude as well, Severus looked up at him, his hand on Harry's knee, and teased, "Cheeky brat. Who said you're invited?" Harry stuck his tongue out at him and grinned; it earned him the laughter and approval of the group. The all-too brief sight of Severus' second-favorite appendage of Harry's left him with visions of better uses for that tongue, but he sternly told himself to forget about that for the moment.

The graduate students gave him a black waistcoat, similar to the one he always wore, which would protect him specifically against flying cauldrons. They wanted to demonstrate its efficacy by lobbing the punch bowl at him, but he begged off. Harry was not the only one to smile at his rejoinder: "If this thing works half as well as your previously demonstrated abilities to forcefully explode cauldrons, I shall be well protected, indeed. But I would very much appreciate it if you would refrain from showing me just how well you do it in the first place."

McGonagall's was the last gift of the night--a flask of aged whiskey. "I know how fond you are of it," she replied to his thanks. "This particular bottle I bought the day you started teaching here at Hogwarts over twenty years ago. Should be just about right now--mellowed and smooth."

"Who? Me or the Whiskey?" he asked with feigned innocence.

She batted his hand away, giving him a hug. "You really are a right auld sod, aren't you?" He knew Harry almost fell off the arm of the chair when Severus hugged her back.

After everyone had properly admired his gifts, the candles on the rich chocolate cake were lit with the usual comments about catching the place on fire because of the number of candles, and resurrected were the old jokes about the extinguishing spells needed to put it out. The usual song was sung in the usual manner of mismatched, unrehearsed voices singing in several keys until the last "nobody can deny", where they all mysteriously met in one note. The cake was cut and devoured in the usual manner and so, in time, one by one, the guests started leaving, each saying good bye to the guest of honour.

Normal in every respect except to one Severus Snape, to whom this experience was fresh and new.

The others had left leaving only Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione remaining. "Oy, Harry," Ron called out, "can I see you a minute?"

Severus, talking quietly to Dumbledore, put his hand on his arm stopping him in mid-word as he noted the pained look on Harry's face. He wondered what was going on that had Harry not wanting to talk to his best friend. Come to think of it, he hadn't heard anything much from Harry about Ron ever since he'd recovered last year. He didn't move to join them but kept a wary glance at their encounter. He wouldn't tolerate someone hurting Harry, friend or no.

Harry was gathering all the gifts in one place so he could shrink them. He closed his eyes a second before opening them and turned to greet his friend of many years. Severus was interested to see Harry look over at Hermione, who seemed calm. Although they were not close to him, Severus still watched everything they did. Ron greeted him, friendly-like, while Harry stood poised, wary even. As Ron spoke to him, he could see Harry's face change, blossom even, until it glowed with a look Severus knew well--it was almost the same one he'd worn this evening before they'd come here. Silent, but eloquent, it signified Harry was so full of happiness he might burst. Ron obviously understood something Severus did not and pulled Harry into a warm embrace. Within moments, they pulled apart awkwardly, both misty-eyed.

Severus was surprised by the embrace and looking at Hermione, the tears falling quietly down her face, he realised they were reconciling something and he felt at ease again. He was glad Harry had his best friend back even if he was a little hurt he'd not known there was a problem in the first place. He dismissed it, not willing to dwell on it tonight. There would be plenty of time to explore it later.

"Good idea," he heard Dumbledore murmur in his ear. "It was very tragic when it happened, I heard, but don't worry about it. Harry didn't tell anyone about the estrangement. I found out about it from Hermione a couple of months ago and was surprised by it myself. You know, he's almost as reserved as you are."

When Hermione and Ron left, arms wrapped around each other, Severus was surprised by the hunger in Harry's eyes. Not a physical hunger, but another kind of urgency directed solely at him. It made him feel warm and good inside. When he reached them, Harry jumped when Dumbledore patted his cheek, saying good night, before turning towards the door to leave as well. Dumbledore leant close to Severus, their shoulders brushing and said almost as an aside, "Good night, my friend. I hope you found your birthday as entertaining as it was enlightening, although, if I were you, I wouldn't expect a surprise one any year soon. This one wore me out."

Severus chuckled, saying, "Thank you Albus. I think one was quite enough if only to say I had one."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled knowingly, "Ah, had a good pre-birthday then?"

"Passing fair," he smiled, sliding his eyes to Harry, "if slightly interrupted. I think I shall take Mr. Potter home now. While the cake was tasty, I feel a hankering for dessert."

Dumbledore laughed merrily as he made his way out the door saying something about 'cream-filled chocolate eclairs' and in no time they were alone in the room.

Taking Harry's hand, Severus stroked his face with his fingertips. "And now, Mr. Potter, I believe you owe me some belated sweetmeats and I'm singularly desirous to sample their delights."

What could Harry say to such a clear invitation? Not much and, with an apparent impatience that matched his own, he tugged on their joined hands to take Severus home.

* * *

TBC


	33. Part III What's for Dessert?

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

* * *

_This probably should have been edited for FF.Net. While the author realises this may be slightly racier than an "R", the part of this chapter in question is such an essential piece to the rest of the book, she decided to leave it in as is. Contains descriptive (but not graphic) sex and rough language--Mea Culpa and Caveat Lector--you have been warned._

* * *

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Thirty Three : What's for Dessert?**

**June 21 2003** (Continued)

They were down by the Great Hall when Severus cleared his throat and said quietly, "I don't believe I found the opportunity this evening to express my gratitude for a most--unusual--birthday. I would show you how much I enjoyed it, but I think, perhaps, Mr. Tools has not quite caught his breath from our earlier performance." Following Severus' wicked gaze, Harry saw Stanley lurking in a niche to the side as they passed. Harry snickered and Severus, with waggling brows, continued once they were past the unfortunate young man, "So I intend to thank you _properly_ when we get home."

Harry felt warm relief at his words. It had certainly gone off a little differently than he'd expected, starting from their interrupted snog to the wide range of emotions Severus had publicly let loose while opening his presents.

"The party was only as unique as you are yourself." Harry grinned at Severus' sceptical sniff. "And I especially love it when you're _polite_." Harry could feel from the shift of their hands that Severus had been thinking of stopping and showing him but had thought better of it, again. Harry knowingly chuckled and was amused by Severus' snort of derision.

Near the stairs to the dungeons, Severus hesitated, and with a glance at his face, Harry stopped to find out what was bothering him. The reserve in Severus' eyes was so different from his normal arms-length keep-away-from-me glare it required a second look. Scanning his whole face, Harry decided his visage held a quality of shyness more than anything else, a foreign uncertainty, as it were. Harry didn't know why it chafed him like an ill-fitting collar, but reckoned it had something to do with what had been happening over the last few months. When Severus drew breath to speak, his "I'm happy you and Ron have reconciled," was the last thing Harry had expected to hear.

Harry jerked in response and then felt a sharp stab of guilt--just one more thing he'd hidden from the man and he now understood the rest behind the words he didn't utter. In a flash of belated insight, that was gone as quickly as it had come, Harry saw in full the ramifications of his actions of the last two years and wondered how Severus was ever going to forgive him. The urgency to tell Severus what had happened was overwhelming, as if every second he delayed would mean a point loss in the odds of him keeping him in his life. But the need to spend time with him, to reconnect with him was as important, perhaps more so because he instinctively knew he had to build it back up before he tore it down. No, now was not the time to blurt out the truth, so he chose his words carefully. "Thanks. I'm relieved it's over." He could see the questions in Severus' eyes about it, but Harry hoped he wouldn't press the issue.

It was all too new and wonderful, this feeling of reconciliation with Ron. He'd been gathering all the gifts in one place so he could shrink them, when he heard Ron call out from behind, "Oy, Harry, can I see you a minute?" He'd taken a moment to compose himself before he turned to greet his friend. It had been almost a year since they'd talked and the last time had been so hurtful, he really didn't want a continuation. He'd looked over at Hermione, but she'd seemed calm, so maybe this would be all right.

His feet rooted to the floor, he'd glanced at Severus, who'd been talking quietly to Dumbledore, and saw him put his hand on Albus' arm stopping him in mid-word. Severus stared at Harry, a worried frown marring his forehead, a multitude of questions had filled his eyes. Knowing full well he'd never discussed the rift with Severus, and why, Harry nodded in what he'd hoped was a placating manner, carefully keeping his face neutral; Severus could be a bit over-protective at times.

He'd met Ron in the middle. "I just--" Ron hesitated, his face almost as red as his hair, now so liberally sprinkled with white it made him look years older than Harry. "I just wanted to tell you--I'm all right with everything." His words had been slightly slurred as if he'd had too much of the punch, but Harry knew it was just a side-effect of his recovery. "Playing in the tournament made me realise I was a lucky bugger to have my mind back at all, and I shouldn't be blaming you for the rest of it." He'd given Harry an abashed, lop-sided smile.

"I-I--" Harry stammered. The words had not come, he'd been so full. Ron pulled him into a warm embrace. They'd separated awkwardly, both misty-eyed. "Welcome back, Ron," he'd whispered. "I missed you so much." Harry had wanted to do a little dance to celebrate that Ron had forgiven him.

Ron had kept his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry. I was a right berk about it." Harry nodded, and it was all right. They'd exchanged a few more words and another hug with Hermione there as well, the tears unashamedly wetting her cheeks. When she and Ron had left, arms wrapped around each other, Harry had the strongest urge to be with Severus.

Nearing him, before they'd left the party, Harry had seen only sympathy in his eyes. On one hand he'd wanted to tell Severus about it; hell, he wanted to shout about it to the whole world. Ron was still his friend--and he was grateful for it.

But right now there was also a hollow place inside, the place Severus should have been occupying as he shared his joy with him. Just another thing he'd denied his lover these last two years. Here, at the top of the stairs, the brush of fingers across his cheek and the small soft kiss Severus placed on his lips sent a frisson through his body, and those gestures, coupled with the neutral look in his lover's eyes, told him Severus would wait for Harry to get to it in his own time. Harry was grateful for that understanding.

Tugging on his hand, Severus started down the stairs, Harry following. They reached the bottom when Harry stopped and turned to Severus, not sure he should ask. Severus took the opportunity to kiss him lightly, lips barely skimming over Harry's and with the shivers of stark desire Harry felt working down his back at Severus' sure touch, both on his lips and the contrasting strong grip on his hands, it was hard for him to think, let alone continue. "Sev?" he finally asked, not sure he should bring it up.

Severus asked non-committally, "Hmmm?" his hands moving up Harry's arms to his shoulders,

Taking a deep breath to steady the twitches in his stomach from both his question and the hand creeping up his neck into his hair, Harry asked, "Why were you upset about the cloak?"

Severus didn't say anything, but his eyes were thoughtful as his thumbs caressed Harry's cheeks. Holding his face as if it were the most precious of possessions, Severus leant down and kissed Harry again, softly, his tongue running lightly over his lips. Harry heard himself make a helpless noise from afar as he responded and kissed him back. Smiling, Severus eventually paid due attention to his cheeks and eyes as well and then, with a little nip to his nose, he moved away, reluctantly it seemed, and taking Harry's hand once again, they continued silently on their way down to their quarters.

He stopped them outside their door; Severus face was undisturbed and calm but unreadable. "I wasn't upset, per se. I was more shocked than anything else." Harry raised a brow and he continued, "You see, I gave Sirius that cloak for his birthday." He opened the door after speaking their password and Harry walked in, dazed, a million questions running through his mind.

The moment the lock clicked on the door Severus pulled Harry close and kissed him deeply, his arms sliding around the slender waist; Harry held on to his shoulders, not certain he could stand much longer. The last coherent thought he had, as he returned Severus' kiss with fervor, was that he'd always loved Severus' way of redirecting questions he didn't want to answer. After that he didn't think of much at all except strategizing the fastest way to get Severus' clothes off without breaking their kiss.

And he obviously succeeded because it didn't take long for the trail of clothes to snake its way to their bed where they were soon so involved, Hogwarts could have fallen around them and they wouldn't have noticed.

* * *

Much later, Severus was floating on a bed of contentment, satiated for the moment. He tightened his arms around the cause of his repletion, savouring the warmth of his skin, the weight of his head on his shoulder, the tangle of their legs. He heard Harry sigh with the same feeling; his breath warm and moist as it tickled the hairs on his chest.  
  
"So good," Severus murmured, the differing textures of Harry's skin under his fingers both familiar and yet, in some strange manner, new. He was not the least bit tired despite the length of their love-making. They'd taken their time, spending what had seemed like days exploring each other again, as if for the first time. At his words, Harry lifted his face for more kisses; Severus was only glad to oblige him.  
  
After a little while, Harry shifted, half covering Severus, the better to look at him. His face was serious enough Severus stopped wool-gathering and paid him keen attention. "I was wondering, Sev, have you ever regretted our--decision?"  
  
Severus regarded him a moment in the light of the candles hanging in the canopy and around them, giving it the thought Harry's question deserved. "No, not really. I briefly reconsidered it when I thought you were--never mind--but for myself? No, I have no regrets. Why? Have you rethought it?"  
  
"Not at all. I thought about it only for the reasons I think you did, sorry as they are. I still have no real desire for it, though," Harry replied, a tremble running once through his body; Severus held him close.  
  
Severus was greatly relieved at the statement. He shuddered, remembering that night so long ago; Harry ran his hand through his hair in what he took as empathy and snuggled close, protectively, with his arm tight around Severus' chest, the other buried under the pillow to emerge tucked against his shoulder, his leg ensconced between his own. Severus tightened his own hold, shifting Harry closer, and resigned himself to the memories.  
  
It had happened shortly after Ron had been injured, in March of 2000. For some misplaced reason, Harry had wanted to 'do it proper' as he'd said. Severus remembered being sceptical at the time, but with Harry writhing underneath him, his eyes black with desire, he'd finally given in with some hesitation and done what Harry had asked. And Harry had seemed fine, eager, and definitely excited while he was preparing him, slowly, carefully, watching his every movement for the slightest signs of distress. He'd held him close, spooned on their sides, and as he'd sunk into Harry's body, the physical sensations incredible, he'd also felt a fleeting sense of wrongness about it, something he could never explain other than it was as if they were not supposed to be doing this. However, he'd put the feeling aside thinking it was only because of the newness of it.  
  
He blamed himself for what followed. Thinking everything all right, given Harry's delicious noises and vocal encouragement, he'd let slip his vigilance. He'd been so lost in the feel of it, the heat and tightness and Harry's coarse, profane words of encouragement, he'd not noticed when Harry's enjoyment had slipped away. He supposed, looking back on it (something he usually tried to avoid), that the words Harry had used should have been his first clue something was wrong, that Harry was locked into his memories and not really 'with' him. Harry had never spoken before (nor since) like that in bed with him, never called their physical relationship 'fucking', never begged him to 'fuck me hard'--nor did he want him to ever again; the words bore a crudeness that had more to do with old domination games than the fresh sharing they normally experienced. No, it had never even occurred to him at the time--he ruefully admitted he'd only been thinking about the sex.  
  
Harry had been so hard and hot while he'd stroked him to the rhythm his own body was demanding, his body pushing back with every deep thrust Severus had made, and the resulting orgasm had been powerful, Harry's body arched against him, clenched around him as he, too, cried out his pleasure. But the price had been far too high. Kissing the back of Harry's sweaty neck afterwards, his tongue tasting sweet and salt, he'd finally noticed through his own fog and laboured breathing that Harry's head was turned into the pillow and he was crying. Alarmed, he'd withdrawn carefully, not wanting to hurt him, and had eventually coaxed Harry into his arms facing him, his chest absorbing the heavy sobs, his body silently suffering the bruising grip of his hands. In all the years he'd known him, Harry had cried only twice before with him, the night on the Astronomy Tower and this ill-fated night; his emotional excess both times had scared Severus.  
  
He'd held him close long after the tears had been replaced by the steady deep breaths of sleep and later had gentled him through the inevitable nightmares that followed. And all that black night, between dark screaming dreams filled with jagged pain, and quiet sleep marred by soft whimpers of guilt, he'd fought his own demons. Fought his own memories, wrestling with the sharp serrated edges of past betrayal and past injury by those whose only motivation had been hateful and forbidden pleasures.  
  
In the darkest part of the night, when the sun's presence would soon be felt, but was now forgot, he'd forced himself to look at his past honestly, to relive the forfeiture of his humanity and dignity, the humiliating incidents had paraded across his squirming mind's eye, one sickening image after another. And when he'd compared their empty pleasures to this one night of innocently mistaken passion, reconciled their enmity towards him against the love so freely given to him by a man as haunted as himself, he'd found it impossible to condemn Harry no matter how he viewed it. For though they'd never spoken of it, he'd known exactly where their hearts lay.  
  
Balancing the sheet had been easier with the coming of dawn. He'd known, deep inside him where no one followed and all his shadows lay untouched by anything kind, that Harry was as vulnerable to his past as he was. The day, kissed by the first edges of light, had found him peaceful in his knowledge, his reeducation complete. While he himself had been content with his resolve over what had happened, he'd also known the worst was yet to come, for Harry still didn't know.  
  
And he'd been right. In the days afterwards, Harry had apologised, over and over, as if his response to his overwhelming memories were something over which he had control; within his own, Severus knew better and had told him so, each time in a different way, hoping that with each repetition Harry would finally understand what he himself had concluded the night it had happened. It had broken Severus' heart to hear Harry speak as if he'd betrayed him somehow and didn't know how to convince him except to stand steadfastly by his side. Harry had been mortified that he'd been with Draco at the moment of his release and not with Severus; he was afraid Severus was angry at him for it, which in reality was far from the truth. Rather, Severus had been upset he'd not seen it coming; he should have trusted his instincts when they'd told him from the moment Harry had asked that it was a bad idea.  
  
It had taken Severus weeks to finally convince Harry it was all right and they were fine, that he was content and satisfied with their loving the way it was--the way it would remain--Severus had no intention of ever putting them through it again. In one night of clear talk and confrontation, Severus had finally discovered that the whole thing had started with trust. Or more accurately, the fear of trust. Harry had been worried that Severus would think he didn't trust him if he didn't surrender to him this last 'sacrifice' withheld from him out of fear. Where he'd got that idea was vague even now, but at the time, it had been very real. Hours after the first shouted words, Severus had been relieved it was over. Harry had finally heard, and more importantly believed, what Severus had been trying to tell him all along--he did not need, nor want 'sacrifices' in their relationship. He only wanted Harry, in whatever form he got him, scars and all.  
  
And they'd moved on, because it was apparent from their discussion that they'd been damned no matter what they'd done. They were clear on the consequences of succumbing to the infrequent temptations to violate their own agreement, but Harry was the one who'd seen the other side of it and he'd shared it with Severus. It had been the final piece of the conundrum allowing Harry to put it to rest even though, deep inside, Severus never did agree with his assessment. Harry believed that had Severus refused Harry (which is still what he thought he should have done} it would have been more devastating than acceding had ever been, for Harry would have thought Severus was rejecting him out of hand, that Harry was not good enough, man enough, to 'take it', and Severus didn't trust him to make his own choices. Harry felt they might not have ever recovered from such a travesty.

Severus knew he would never be able to tell Harry in words just how deep his trust in him really was. However, maybe the fiasco had needed to happen if only to put the issues of their relationship and sexuality to rest. _'Until now that is.'_ Forcing himself to relax a little, he said lightly, "Hmm. I have to admit to a certain amount of relief to hear you say you are not interested. But tell me--have I somehow made you think I would ever want to repeat such a catastrophe again?"   
  
Harry chuckled softly as he placed a small kiss on Severus' chest, but his voice was serious as he replied, "No, not at all. I have never felt dissatisfaction from you. It's just... The thought occurred to me the other night when I put you to bed. You were so tired and--it had been so long--I wanted you and I was afraid--but couldn't bring myself to wake you. I couldn't sleep-- You know how it gets at night sometimes, left alone with one's thoughts; I think better when you're awake. You ground me, somehow. Otherwise I think in unproductive circles."   
  
Severus knew exactly what he was talking about. "You were afraid I didn't want you? And that led you to wonder about our decision?"

Harry said sheepishly, "Yeah, the thought crossed my mind. Several times..."

Rolling them over, Severus leaned on his elbow so he could see Harry better. He dipped his head and stole a kiss. "I seem to recall we've been through this at least once before." Severus' eyes followed the route his free hand ran down Harry's side from rib to knees. As he lightly trailed his hands up the front on their return trip to Harry's chest, he murmured, "I certainly hope I have, by now, made it abundantly clear how much I want you. The last time we went through this--"

Harry drew a shuddering breath and placed his hand on Severus' mouth. "Severus, I remember. I remember how I became a victim again and what you felt--I don't want us to ever feel that way again."  
  
"So, we're still agreed?" Severus asked, watching Harry carefully.  
  
"Absolutely--no buggering. And I have to say, after all the lovely things we've done tonight--" He scooted up, drawing his face even with Severus'.

Harry silently begging for kisses had to be rewarded. Severus nibbled gently on Harry's lips and shivered as Harry's hands slid down his back. "Hmmm? You were saying?"

Harry pulled Severus' head down to take his lips with own and, hooking his legs behind Severus, rolled them back to their original position with Harry on top. He whispered, his eyes intent, "--with what you do to me without it, what's there to miss?"  
  
Severus breathed a sigh of relief as Harry laid his head back down in what he'd told Severus on several occasions was 'his' hollow, custom-designed for him before Severus' birth. A silly romantic notion, he'd told him, never saying how good it always made him feel. He laughed inwardly at his own folly, convinced he was a fool for not telling Harry these things out loud, but secure that his lover knew them anyway. He ran his hand slowly down the long length of Harry's spine, loving the stippling of the satiny skin caused by his touch, placed his hand firmly on the small of Harry's back, which was 'his' spot and, nuzzling his head with his lips, sighed with great contentment.

Sometime later, Harry lifted his head with a mischievous glimmer in his eye. "Speaking of performance," he began, "that little book of yours looked like a lot of fun."

"'A right giggle', I believe you said."

Harry chuckled wickedly. "Yes, indeed I did." He got up and clambered out of the bed. "Be right back," he called over his shoulder as he went into the other room.

Severus openly admired his lithe shape as he walked through the doorway, feeling the tightening he knew was going to come sometime soon. He was briefly disturbed Harry would have brought up their mutual decision, but in light of all the doubts both of them had, he supposed the question was natural.

He'd already dropped the subject in his head and was thinking on how he could best satisfy the now rigid desire from which he was suffering, when Harry returned with a tray bouncing along beside him. When he got it near the bed side, the legs underneath folded down making a small table upon which was a dinner tray with a round cover on top. Beads of condensation were running down its sides, so Severus knew whatever was in there was being kept cold. A big red bow covered the lot and another was around Harry's neck.

"Late night snack?" he queried, amused, eyeing both bows. "A late birthday present?"

"Sort of," Harry said, removing the lid with a flourish. "Dessert!"

When Severus saw the contents he started laughing, recognising the items on the tray. "What? No spotted dick?" he couldn't resist asking, incredulous Harry wanted to try this.

"No, it seemed a little too obvious, so I decided to go after the other 'naughty desserts' outlined in the section," he said reaching for the tray.

"No cherries either, I suppose," Severus asked in reference to a comment Harry had made in the margins.

"Didn't seem--appropriate--somehow." He put his knee on the bed and leaned over Severus, stealing a kiss, tasting him with his tongue. "So tell me, oh purveyor of delectable sweetmeats, Chocolate or Butterscotch?" he asked in a mock-sultry voice. His shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

"What? No hot fudge?" he asked, all innocence.

"You didn't put it in the margins," Harry grumbled, "but I'll remember it next time."

"All right, chocolate it is. Can't imagine a banana split with butterscotch." Severus looked over at the tray. "Where's the bananas?"

Harry leered at him as he shook the Muggle can of whipped cream. "We'll just have to improvise, won't we?"

* * *

At dawn, Severus woke loose and refreshed thanks to the late night bath he and Harry had taken to wash off the sticky remains from their late night snack. While it had definitely been 'a right giggle', he wasn't sure he was up to such rich fare every day. He felt Harry's light morning snores stir the hairs on his chest. _That_ woke him up--for the first time in four years they'd not shifted positions.

Unlike previous months, he had a whole morning stretching out before him unfilled and clear. Pictures of unhurried, lazy love-making occupied his senses for about as long as it took for him to realise the day would probably be spent trying to figure out what had happened to them over the last few months. They'd not talked about it at all and Severus sensed they were not finished with the difficult revelations; they would need to talk before much longer, although the thought of it left him cold. And there was Harry's school work; he would need to make up the lost time from the days before.

In the meantime, he was not immune to the slow sleepy hand stroking his chest, running down his side and tripping back up his stomach in short tickling touches. He stopped short of a giggle. Definitely tickling now. He raised his head and looked down; unrepentant green eyes playfully stared back up at him.

He held his breath. No, this was definitely not working; he snorted, suppressing the undignified giggles, his eyes bulging. The hands tickled again. Relentless, they pressured his stomach in paroxysms of tickles. He tried to move away. No luck. He did giggle, appalled at the noises leaving his nose. Then he gave up, convulsing in laughter as the hand dug right at his belly button. He writhed, helpless, trapped by Harry's body from pulling away. His toes curled. He felt the hoot of satisfaction at his chest, the hand continuing up, counting his ribs.

It faltered. Ahhh, the break he was waiting for.

He attacked. Went on the offensive. Won the battle but lost the war. Harry was breathless at the end; so was he.

Life was good.

* * *

Severus was just about to fasten the clasps on his lighter, summer robes when he felt a familiar pair of arms steal around his waist to lock loosely in front of him. The warm body followed, pressing lightly against him, the head a heavier weight as it settled on the back of his neck, the nose shifting the hair off it so the lips could kiss it. Responding to the little nips ghosting along the sensitive skin of his nape, he automatically put his hands over the clasped hands in front of him and was surprised to feel a slight tremour in them. They tightened and it disappeared so fast he wondered if he'd imagined it.

He didn't really want to go down to breakfast anymore than Harry did, but a body needed sustenance for what they'd been doing for the better part of the night and morning, and he was hungry. His stomach rumbled under Harry's hands, which contracted then released at the same time he felt the laughing sigh on his neck.

"Oh, all right then, I surrender. Let's go to breakfast; I can't compete with your complaining belly, and I admit I'm a bit peckish myself."

Severus turned around in the loose circle of Harry's arms loath to go. He kissed Harry murmuring, "We could just ask the house-elves to bring us breakfast." He pulled him closer, lightly traced his tongue over Harry's lips, his two hungers vying equally for attention. His stomach grumbled insistently again.

Harry laughed, "There's really no sense in arguing with it, is there? Besides, I'm not sure I can face the house-elves quite yet after what we did with the food they brought down last night."

Chuckling, Severus protested, "But that was dessert."

"Uh huh, and now we're asking for breakfast? What _will_ they think?"

Severus nuzzled his neck. "Do we care?" His stomach complained louder.

Harry playfully pushed away, looking him in the eye. "Not really, but let's go down anyway. I'm not quite sure I can deal with my eggs and kippers _and_ you at the same time."

Waggling his brows, Severus said lightly, "Eggs and kippers?" He lowered his hands and his voice, cupping Harry's arse, pulling him tight against him, "I was thinking more on the lines of bangers, myself."

Harry licked his lips and looked like he was about to capitulate when _his_ stomach spoke up, sounding against the noise coming from Severus'. They broke apart, reluctantly but laughing, their hands still joined. "Why didn't you tell me there were four of us? You, me, and the two chuffers wanting food."

With the continuing noises issuing from their neglected hungers sounding like a two fishwives across a fence, Harry and Severus left their other appetites behind to pursue some breakfast.

* * *

TBC


	34. Part III Hope Interrupted

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Thirty Four : Hope Interrupted**

**22 June 2003**

Finished with their late morning repast, they left the Great Hall and headed back towards their quarters. Severus could see Harry getting more uneasy with each step; there was a finality to it that told him their time to 'talk' was drawing close, sooner than later he suspected, maybe even now. Which, in a way, he regretted--they'd had such a lovely night and morning--one he very much wanted to continue well into the afternoon and beyond. However, in another, he was relieved they might actually be able to talk about it and remove whatever it was from between them.

Harry stopped Severus at the stairs to the dungeons. "Let's go outside. It's such a beautiful morning. I feel like a walk around the lake."

Severus stared at him, sure he'd lost his mind. Harry never went on walks. He usually finished his food and went down to study, or (as he'd secretly hoped) they'd pick up where they'd left off. Feeding his corporeal self had done little to assuage his _hunger_. 

However, he'd been steeling himself all throughout breakfast to wait until after Harry was done studying to satisfy his other appetites. Harry must have a great deal of work to catch-up on given the amount of time he'd been recently occupied in other non-academic pursuits. But something was different right now; the normal, almost manic urgency he usually felt from him was absent. It was as if he had not a thing to occupy him today. Most un-Harry-like and he was puzzled.

"Are you quite sure? What about all the studying you missed this week? That's not to say I'm adverse to a leisurely walk with you, but I don't want to be the reason you're behind in your studies, either." This was most confounding; if Harry truly had as much free time as he was intimating, a stroll around the lake was not exactly the recreational activity he'd had in mind. However, he had a feeling there was more to it than just exercise, something he was sure of with Harry's next words.

"Um, we need to talk about that," Harry muttered, suddenly nervous.

An old, familiar (but unwelcome) chill of alarm worked its way up Severus' spine. "Oh good gads, Harry. What have you done now?" he asked, certain they were about to have 'that talk' he'd seen coming this morning. Perhaps it would be beneficial to get it out in the open and behind them.

Harry regretted his hearty breakfast as it roiled uncomfortably in his gut, incompatible with the queasy panic settling next to the undigested eggs and bacon. "Not here, Sev," he said as calmly as he could manage. "Not in our quarters, either. Can we please go outside to neutral ground? I need some space to--move around," he pleaded desperately. 

"Move around or run around?" Defenses up, Severus' heavy sarcasm, as always, effectively hid his despair. He'd originally thought a 'clearing of the air' might bring closure to them both; however, Harry's pale face and shaking voice spoke of a fear so profound, it supplanted Severus' initial relief with a grim premonition of vague disquiet.

"Both, maybe," Harry admitted ruefully.

Severus sighed, resigned to whatever unpleasantness Harry had in store for him. "Very well. A walk around the lake, it is."

They strolled down to the water in strained silence. Severus wondered what Harry had to tell him that required space. They started their trek near the shore with an undercurrent of unease. While the morning was still pleasant, the tension radiated from Harry like steam off a cauldron. And still he did not speak. Once they'd made a complete circuit, Severus stopped. "Harry, tell me now, or I walk back to the castle--alone."

Harry fiddled with the sleeves of his robe unable to meet Severus' stern gaze. Despite all the rehearsals he'd had in his head and in front of his disapproving mirror, the first words he'd planned to speak were clogged in his throat, almost a physical thing, making it hard to breathe. The silence stretched and he could feel Severus' ire. A quick glance confirmed his supposition; Severus was about to explode.

Severus grew impatient with Harry's fidgeting silence. He took off his outer robe, suddenly unbearably hot, and laid it out on the grass behind him. Sitting down on his impromptu blanket, he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to reveal pale, wiry forearms; he saw Harry staring at them, an indescribable sadness on his face, and Severus suddenly wanted to hide them.

Ignoring the discomfort Harry's gaze gave him, he leaned back on his hands, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. When Harry still said nothing, his mouth opening and closing, Severus decided he would break the stalemate and said, his words clipped, "Speak, Harry. Tell me why you are unconcerned about your school work. That _is_ what this is about, right?" he asked with asperity.

Harry also noticed how warm it was getting; he discarded and pocketed his robes, his stance one of arrested flight. "Um, I don't have any more school work."

Severus' eyes narrowed. He was appalled but withheld judgement. "You quit?" 

Harry took a steadying breath; it had begun. "No, I finished."

Severus blinked. Somehow he'd been expecting more fanfare, but that didn't mean he wasn't pleased. An incredulous, wide smile split his face. "Harry, that's wonderful!"

"Two years ago." Harry turned and paced the short distance down to the water's edge, his back to Severus. He picked up a flat rock and skipped it along the surface of the lake.

Severus felt his hand slip on the ground behind him and caught himself, stunned as his world came crashing down. "Two years ago?" he muttered. 

By long habit, his face resumed the austere, unreadable face he hid behind with most people. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. "Two whole years ago?" 

There was a small part of him still under control, and he let that take over while the rest of him flowed with the white hot surge of swirling emotions he felt at Harry's words. The sharp hurt of betrayal banded around his chest and gut making it hard to breathe, impossible to think. "Two whole, fucking years ago?"

He couldn't bring himself to respond, knowing that anything he might say, right now, would be born of fresh anger and pain and would probably damage them and their relationship, such as it was, permanently. There was enough of him in control to want to hear the whole story before he let his baser instincts take over. The implications, "Two years," lanced through him. He wanted to scream, but whispered, "Years ago," feeling defeated.

When Harry came back from the water's edge Severus asked, his tone deadly quiet, "When?"

Harry gripped his courage. "When you published your paper. The same day Albus announced it in the staff room, to be precise."

"Oh, by all means, _Potter_. Be precise." The snide comment slipped out before he could control it. He admonished himself to remain calm, taking a deep breath, willing himself to be neutral. "And after? Pray tell, how have you been occupying your time _**these last two years?**_" The volume was as close to shouting as he would allow himself.

Harry winced. Jumping in with both feet, he said, "I have been working on my Mastery," with a small amount of pride.

"In what?" he asked evenly, finally gaining a measure of control, despite the growing anger.

"Clinical magic and long term applications." Harry thought a moment, debating whether to explain that it was a bit more complicated than that, but decided this wasn't the time or the place to discuss it.

Wondering what else Harry was holding back, he asked the first thing that came to mind. "Who is your advisor?"

"Professors Quiesta and Dumbledore _were_ my advisors," Harry replied. 

It startled Severus to realize that Albus had obviously approved of Harry keeping such a secret from him. He couldn't for the life of him see any reason Albus would have allowed it. Then Harry's words caught up with him. "Were?" he asked sternly.

"I finished it this last week."

"Impossible! It takes more than two years for a Mastery, even for you," he snapped. Uncertainty warred with incredulity; he couldn't believe Harry thought him so gullible to credit such a bold-face lie.

Harry stared at his feet. "Actually, it took four. I had a Time-Turner." He raised his head, filled with a mild defiance. "And before you ask, Albus gave it to me--reluctantly, I might add." He rolled the sleeves up on his shirt. The day was turning hot.

There were too many questions. Had Albus thought he would stand in the way of Harry's mastery? Is that why he'd condoned the subterfuge? He wanted to know what Albus' part had been in all this. "Why the hurry? Why was Albus reluctant?"

Harry thought about it a minute, trying to recapture the feelings he'd had at the time. He discovered Dumbledore had been right about the rehearsed words fleeing to Paris. "I was panicked. It felt urgent. Dumbledore made me wait because he wanted me to tell you before I started. He thought I was a coward to let you hang like that."

Severus studied Harry and his hesitation, his own ire cooling a bit. He could see Harry was struggling with the words. They were such precise things, and he couldn't help wondering how long Harry had been rehearsing them to get them right, to say what he wanted in the least hurtful manner. He had no doubt Harry would have at least given him that much consideration. The thought calmed him like nothing else had and he was almost ready to listen when he realised that Harry had not really answered him. 

What little calm he'd managed to gain, fled. "Harry, just answer the damned questions. Why were you panicked? Why the urgency?" Severus knew something vital was still eluding him. He knew Dumbledore did nothing without a reason--good or otherwise.

"Because of you." Harry stated flatly, and then his mouth opened in shock; he could have smacked himself and would have taken the words back if he could. He couldn't believe he'd done the one thing he's swore he wouldn't do and he cursed his lack of courage for laying the blame on Severus. He hurried on. "No! No, that's not what I meant. I mean, you were one of the reasons, but--oh hell--I'm messing this up."

Severus' dead voice was silky. "Oh, I think you had it right the first time. Because of me, personally?" He was unable to keep the rising venom out of his voice. "Or was it because you knew you could not deceive me much beyond the expected period of your supposed undergraduate study?" The band tightened around his chest and, panting, he struggled for air.

"It was nothing like that. I felt--Oh damn, I don't know what I felt. It was four years ago for me, I don't remember clearly anymore. I just know I was really stupid," Harry faltered, knowing he'd failed to get his point across. He didn't know what he could say to make it better.

With stark sorrow in his heart and feeling the fool, Severus spat out, "Stupid does not even begin to describe it. Was it worth it, Harry? Was it worth breaking my trust? Our trust?" Severus stood in one fluid movement and, impelled by his anger and deep hurt, turned away to stalk swiftly up to the castle.

****

Albus let the curtain go, cutting off his view of the scene below, and felt a deep ache that started at his heart and made his bones tired. He'd expected many things, but Severus walking away with such hurt and grief was not one of them. He'd obviously underestimated his friend of many years once again and not truly realised the depth of trust he'd placed in Harry, although he still had lingering doubts Severus had given Harry all of it. He'd known Severus' love for Harry was profound, but not to this extent. Severus had looked like someone had just cut out his soul with a butterknife.

Soft hands touched his face and he smiled down at her, thinking she could always make him feel better just by her touch, even after all these years. She tugged on his beard by long habit to pull his face down and after placing a small kiss on his cheek said, "The only mistake you really made was assuming that no one else feels as deeply as you do. Don't worry so--it's not fatal." She pulled back the curtain and pointed at Harry poised to run. "He's too determined and sincere a young man to let Severus get away from him." She turned her eyes to Severus. "He's so stubborn, but oh, how he loves Harry." She kissed him again. "Think of our life--of how much we need each other." His eyes met hers and softened; she nodded. "And that's how they'll do it."

****

Harry was horrified. What had he done? "No, Severus! Don't leave." He ran after him and swiftly caught him up. He grabbed Severus' arm and hung on. Standing in front of him, unbidden memories of another morning, four years before when he'd tried to stop Severus from leaving, came to mind. Only now he was trying to get back the trust that he'd gained inch by inch that morning. He wasn't sure Severus would listen this time around, although he was certain he would not be as open as he'd been that morning in the bath. "Severus, wait!"

Severus obliged, turning dry, anguished eyes to him. "Why, Harry? Please tell me why." He struggled to stay unemotional, but despite his best resolve, he snarled, "Fill the hole you just dug, damnit!"

Beyond panic, Harry's words came tumbling out with little regard to coherency and order. "Sev, you have to understand what little was going through my head at the time. I'd got my degree with honours; I was so excited. Then you got published the same day. I was excited about that, too. I wanted you to shine. I didn't want the other's focus away from you, so I kept silent. I knew that if I said anything, they wouldn't look at you anymore. By the time I thought of it, it was too late to tell you. Each moment I tried kept slipping away." His breath came in gasps.

Severus was close to shouting. He purposely kept his voice low but intense. "I didn't want the accolades. I yelled at Albus for even bringing it up." He once again was filled with the feelings of the other night when he'd roamed the castle. He had to ask himself if the reason Dumbledore had helped Harry conceal his complicity was simply because he'd known his announcement had started it all? With a sinking feeling he realised he'd been right--that damned paper was more pivotal than he'd originally thought. Harry's next words confirmed it.

Harry hung his head and dropped Severus' arm. "Then I read your paper and realised my accomplishments were truly _nothing_ compared to yours. I felt so--oh damn, I felt like a child. Like I wasn't good enough for you. And it wasn't you--it was me. In MY head. Your brilliance, gods, it blinded me. I decided I had to get my Mastery immediately, hoping it would make us equals. That's all I really wanted. Was to meet with you in middle, neither above or below." He immediately thought, _'No, that's not completely true. It's only part of it.'_ Harry took a deep breath. "Honesty--such a simple word--I promised myself I'd tell you the truth, all of it this time, no matter what. I'm sorry. It wasn't just pride, it was more than that."

Severus drew himself up. Harry's words cut through him like a knife. "Should I assume everything you've said to this point is prevarication?" At the shake of Harry's head, 'no', he forced himself to say calmly, "All right, Potter. Perhaps you'll grace me with your full, _honest_ explanation."

Harry sighed. He realised he'd deserved that last remark. "I wanted you to admire me the same way I admired you. Unconditionally. I see now why you could not. I mean, all I'd done to that point was what everyone expected me to do. I went where I was told to go, did what I was supposed to do; I was more a golem than a person. See, I'd not really earned your pride in me." He hesitated--this was so hard, but he had to say it, had to open himself to the same hurt he was causing Severus if he was ever going to redeem himself. "And I wanted it so badly, Severus. I just wanted you to be as proud of me as I was of you."

Severus was stunned. "I have always been proud of you."

"Now who's fooling who?" Harry laughed mirthlessly. "If you were _always_ proud, you had an extremely odd way of showing it sometimes."

Looking back on it, Severus knew he was right; it made his chest ache again.

Harry, seeing Severus' pause, wondered if he'd finally got some of his feelings across. He continued, in earnest, "I was thoughtless, Severus. I know this now. Dumbledore knew it then; he tried to talk me into telling you, but by then it was more than stubbornness or defiance. It was instinctive. I somehow knew I had to do it by myself without you. I can't explain it. No one understood, least of all myself, but the feeling was definitely there. I couldn't ride in anyone's shadow. On my own. And I think Dumbledore saw this. He kept track of me. And, of course, Madame Pomfrey did as well with the physicals I had to have every month to make sure the Time-Turner wasn't harming me."

Severus was still trying to take it all in, the magnitude of it. He said the first thought he could grab out of the chaos. "I'm surprised Quiesta let you get away with it. She's very meticulous; your haste would have been unseemly to her."

Harry sighed, but he felt an unnamed relief--finally something concrete he could answer. "She was mystified by my progress. I finally had to tell her about the Time-Turner. She thought I was nutters. Well, she had other reasons than that to think I was crazy." Thinking Severus might be upset that 'everyone' knew but him, Harry hastily reassured him, "But I swear, I never told her that you didn't know. Or anyone else for that matter--except Hermione and I didn't have much of a choice there." No, he hadn't, but a different type secret resided there. One he was professionally bound to keep. 

The comment was timely as suddenly little things people had said over the last two years started making sense to Severus, especially the few brief conversations he'd had with Quiesta when they'd met professionally at some conference or other. The clues had been there, only he'd been too wrapped up in his own affairs and too trusting of Harry to have put the pieces together into their proper place. "And am I supposed to be grateful you have at least learned discretion?"

Harry snorted to himself as he reflected that Severus had no concept of just how much discretion he had learned over the last four years, but that was another matter all together. Resisting the urge to blurt it out, he ignored Severus' last well-aimed remark and said instead, "And I did it, Severus. I finished it. I have my Mastery. Then Dumbledore brought me back to earth and reminded me I still had yet to tell you."

Severus asked him sharply, "When did he do this?"

"Night before last, when we were preparing for the party. Gave me a right twisting, he did. Told me to stop feeling sorry for myself." Dumbledore's remembered words brought heat to his face.

"You lied to me," Severus said quietly, trying to hang on to his shredded dignity.

Harry protested, "Possibly. Depending on how you look at it. But not directly. I WAS still in school. Even the same one with the same advisor. I was just not studying the same curriculum."

Severus shook his head. "You're splitting hairs."

Harry countered, "Am I? Any more than you did for 20 years?" He bit his tongue on his next retort, knowing it would only make the situation worse, but the words came out anyway. "And what about what you did for Sirius? In the Veil?"

The true words stung. "How dare you reduce my actions to the level of yours. The circumstances are not even remotely the same." Wounded, Severus began to walk back up to the castle. "Not even close," he muttered, trying to convince himself.

He stopped in his tracks at the reply. "Yes, they are!" Harry shouted. "You want to know how dare I? How dare you? We both have done what we had to do. I've never questioned your motives for the things you've done, even though I've always known there were many things you never told me. Things you have no intention of ever telling me _even though they affect me and my well-being as well._ I can accept that. However, I cannot accept your disallowing that my motives may have been as important as your own."

Knowing Harry had a point, quite a large one, in fact, if he was being as honest with himself as he was expecting Harry to be, Severus turned around to face him. Knowing that more than a few yards of grass separated them right now, he was prepared to listen and raised a brow at Harry's silence.

Harry started walking towards him, the way he might approach a wounded animal, slowly, carefully, warily. Softly he began, his words getting clearer and more insistent with each small step he took, "Severus, I tell you honestly I was DRIVEN. There is no other word for it. Within myself, I had no choice. Why? I don't know; I admit I didn't look at it all that closely at the time. Oh, in the beginning it was to cover for my feelings of inadequacy, but by the end of the first year, it was different. _I_ was different." He stopped a few feet away; his face softened, Severus could see his sincerity when he continued, "I'm not that stupid boy anymore, Severus. I'm Harry, a man who loves you. I'm sorry I hurt you. Just please--please don't walk away."

****

Dumbledore continued to watch the unfolding drama below him, now with barely concealed irritation. He briefly wondered if he was young enough to pick up their pieces yet again. Visions of a large animated egg on a wall surrounded by royal horses and soldiers assailed him. He felt her behind him, her hand light on his shoulder while she watched the same tableau, saying, "You still worry too much. They'll work it out."

He silently willed them to do so and leave him out of it. But it was a silly wish, since _he'd_ put himself in the middle of it in the first place. He was tired of their fighting and he was tired of the same lonely waltz to which these two danced; each afraid to totally trust the other even though they _knew_ they needed each other.

"I hope you're right," he said tenderly, leaning down to give her a light kiss. "I sometimes despair at them. One would think they would tire of their differences by now."

"I think their reconciliation will be sooner than you think and when it comes, it will be swift and sure, with no hesitation. They just have this last little bit to jump over then they'll be just fine."

He took one last look and stepped away from the window wondering briefly where he'd put the sledgehammer.

****

Gods help him, he couldn't walk away, not yet, not knowing where they stood now. And he still didn't know whether this was worth the price Harry was making him pay for it. Severus closed the distance between them. They met in the middle, arms closing tight around each other. Harry had said he was different and acknowledging it might be true, Severus wondered if he would recognise 'this' Harry. Severus took the only comfort he could find in the warmth of the familiar body under his hands as he asked himself if he could love this Harry. And would he ever be able to survive if the answer was 'no'?

"I seem to recall a young man telling me off one morning four years ago about not trusting him enough to look beyond the outside to see the inside. Do you remember him, Harry? Is he still in there?"

"Yes, I remember him, Severus. And yes, he's very much a part of me. Maybe more so now. Do you remember the man telling me to make sure I made my own choices, for my own reasons, so I could grow up with no regrets? So I could walk my own paths freely? Does he still believe that?" he asked quietly.

Severus nodded and said almost to himself, "I sometimes wonder if he does. He spent so much of his life manipulating situations to fit what he needed, I'm not sure he ever knew how to stop." He pulled back to see Harry's face, arms still wrapped around him below. "Was that the problem, Harry? Did you feel I was forcing you to go somewhere you didn't want to go? To do something you didn't want to do?"

Harry was thoughtful, looking back honestly and shook his head saying, "No, I never felt pressured from you in my choices--you opened avenues I'd never thought existed, but I never felt manipulated into any one of them. My performance of those choices is where you exerted your efforts. Sometimes quite forcefully, I might add," he chuckled thinking on their _Occlumency_ lessons in particular.

"I admit, I was harsh at times. Especially when I knew you could do better," he murmured ruefully.

"I've grown up, Severus. I have a better idea what I want out of life. What direction I want to take. And there has NEVER been any doubt in my mind that we would be walking life's paths together. You're part of the reason I continued, the reason I held on and finished. Your face was in my mind, your sometimes harsh words were in my head exhorting me to go on, to not stop, even when I was filled with despair and not sure I _could_ do it. Your faith in me was all that kept me going sometimes."

"Did it not occur to you the only driving force you should have ever relied on was yourself?"

"No, it never occurred to me then. I know it now, though. But, Severus, if I hadn't had you inside me, goading me, _I never would have got to the point where I found out I needed to do it on my own_."

Severus blinked and stepped back, his hands loose on Harry's waist. "It bothers me I have that much influence over you. Where's my Harry in all of this?" He sighed, frustrated, feeling he was close to the answer. What was it Albus was trying to tell him?

"Your Harry stands on his own two feet now, Sev. He chooses what he wants to do with his life. He no longer stands in the shadow of a prophecy, no longer has evil battles to fight unless he chooses to do so. He has opportunities now--decisions to make as to where he can do the most good."

He stepped closer. "But most importantly, this Harry wants to be with his lover, a man he loves and strives to emulate, because he embodies what he finds to be the finest traits a human can have." He put his hands on Severus' chest. "You know what it means to give all you can and then keep giving more, because it's what's needed to do the thing right, and don't question when I do the same; in fact, you've always expected it. You know my nightmares are the same as your own, and you think more of me for it. You are a compassionate man; although you hide your empathy behind a mask of your own making, you censure me not when I choose to be more open about it."

Harry whispered, "I can think of no finer man than you, Severus, save Albus, and despite our exasperation at times, we both admire and love him. Whether you like it or not, you and others moulded me into who I am today. I just took the bits and pieces you all gave me and forged them into the person standing before you. That's what these last years have been, Sev. The tempering of Harry."

Severus shivered; his previous premonition swept through him with its icy portent. He looked over Harry's shoulder out at the water unable to meet those piercing green eyes. He needed time to take it all in.

**** TBC ****


	35. Part III Nothing Less Than Everything

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part III : Conflict  
**Chapter Thirty Five : Nothing Less Than Everything**

**22 June 2003** (Continued)

Severus' mind reeled, the phrases twisting in his thoughts like a vertiginous dance. _"...stands on his own two feet now... Harry, a man who loves you... a compassionate man... Harry wants to be with his lover... no finer man than you, Severus... you and others moulded me into who I am today... I'm sorry I hurt you... the tempering of Harry... you know what it means to give all you can and then keep giving more..."_

Harry's words slid up through his ribs and pierced his heart as surely as a dagger could steal his life. Bleeding inside, he lay exposed, vulnerable and naked to Harry's words, and the light shining out of Harry's eyes. Slicing through him, they cut his defences, opening his soul for the whole world to see, leaving it bare to the sunshine, and he was alarmed at the burn he could feel from its golden regard. He was a creature of the night, not of the daylight. His was a soul of shadows, not meant to be exposed to the light of openness.

Harry wanted no less than all of him. Unshielded, uncovered, revealing all the festering things as well as those that shone. And gods help him, despite all that was happening now, he knew he would eventually give it to him. He had no resistance. For all that Harry professed to want and need him, he needed Harry like air to breathe. He could no more leave him than he could not love him. And that was the problem right now. He didn't know if he could afford to continue loving him. Didn't know if he could close himself back up again should he let Harry continue to open him. For if he did so and Harry betrayed him again, he knew that everything he was, everything he would ever be, would bleed out of the remaining, gaping wounds, leaving him with nothing. Absolutely nothing. A black pit of nothingness so deep, the darkest despair would be the sun to light it.

He knew that for all of Harry's professions of adulthood, for all his declarations of love, Harry had no real concept of what he was asking of him, of what Harry himself had not invested yet. Or had he? And Severus knew what the truth was--he was being asked to stake his life on a future he could not even begin to see, let alone fathom.

But he also knew, and this is what kept him from just walking away from such a horrible risk, he had never let Harry know the depth of his own investment in their relationship. Never told him how deeply buried Harry was in him. He had let his own fears and assumptions dictate his actions, his own untruths, for hadn't he always been convinced no one could ever truly love Severus Snape? No one could ever accept him, scars and all?

And yet--yet, Harry had, hadn't he? Severus didn't think he was that obtuse--was that where his true weakness lay? He couldn't distrust his own instincts in this? Hadn't it always been there in every touch, in every glance, in every beat of Harry's heart against his own? While he'd once thought so, Severus didn't know anymore, it was too much to take in at one time; he was not sure he could see around this apparent betrayal to see the truth behind it.

Although, Harry was right, damn him, there was much Severus had never told him, but Harry had accepted it anyway, never questioned him on it, always assumed there was a good reason for Severus' silence. Could he assume any less for Harry?

He _knew_ he loved the Harry who had coaxed his reluctant spirit into the light. Was this Harry any different? And therein lay the small hope he was feeling. He needed time to think, time alone to reconcile his own thoughts, but for right now, he had a greater need, one he could fulfill with only one tiny step. Such a small thing, and he was ashamed of needing it, but not enough to not take this small comfort he knew Harry would give him if he only asked for it. Or took it.

And finally looking at Harry, seeing the worry and the love shining out of his eyes, Severus folded him in his arms in the full light of the day, uncaring who should see, unmindful of what they might say. He needed the solace, needed to reclaim him, regardless of which Harry was here right now. He was lost, urgent in his need for contact, the moment fleeting. Their lips met and fused, the longing sucking at them both, leaving them breathless. They lost track of time and when it was right to end it, they did.

Severus put his arm around Harry's shoulders, kissed his cheek, and said softly, "Let's go back, where we can be private."

Harry looked over at Severus, feeling a strange mixture of hope and alarm.

She called him back to the window, waking him from a catnap. He was a little cross until he saw the two men embracing in the yard. There was _something_ in their stance telling him their resolution was closer.

"See, I told you it would be fine," she said smugly. "Now all we've to face is Severus getting his trust back. And while that may take some time, at least now they're talking."

He smiled, "You know, I almost hate it when you're right." And he loosed his hold on the drapery, letting it fall closed, giving them their privacy.

When they made it back to their quarters, Severus gave Harry one final kiss on the cheek and let go of his shoulder. Harry immediately flopped gracelessly into the corner of the couch in the sitting room, stretching his legs out before him, half-on, half-off the seat. Severus thought about joining him, but his nerves were strung so taut, he knew he would never sit still. His mind ran in endless circles, leading him nowhere, shattering the thin peace he'd found outside. He still wasn't seeing what Albus was trying to tell him but knew he needed to find the message within the circumstance.

However, there was something he _could_ do right now. Something woven as much into the whole fabric of it as the deception itself. Pacing the floor behind Harry, he spoke up, implacable. "I want to read your paper."

"All right, I'll get it for you in a bit." Harry vacillated.

Severus stopped and peered at his lover. Harry was afraid to give him the paper? Why would that be? Certainly not for the work itself--Quiesta was not the type to just hand out good marks for the sake of doing so. Severus knew she valued her reputation too much and, being not much of a risk-taker, taught only the best and the brightest. Besides, she would not have the final say in Harry's success; the review board, in front of which Harry would have had to defend his dissertation, had that privilege. The members, all known to him personally, had a well earned reputation for their tough fairness.

No, it must be him; Harry was afraid of his reaction. He thought back on all the years they'd shared both before and after their intimate relationship and began to get a glimmer of what the problem might be. It made it more urgent he see it. "No, Harry, I need to read it right now," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

"Why? Why now?" Harry queried, clearly confused.

Severus considered him a moment, his eyes shuttered. "I don't rightly know. I just know I _need_ to read it right now if I want to stop thinking in circles, which I assure you, I do in a very bad way."

Harry reluctantly acceded and walked into his study to retrieve the fairly thick volume. Severus followed him and sat down in the chair opposite the desk, holding out his hand, his eyes neutral. Harry gave it to him with open trepidation and settled back at his desk to wait, watching his fish for a distraction. Eventually, he tired of their antics and went over to sit cross-legged in the tall window seat, looking out the glass at nothing, his back to the room. He stubbornly refused to look at Severus.

Severus opened the bound cover, reading the title:

**_Sanos_ Healing and its Effects on the Long-Term Impairment of Victims of the _Cruciatus Curse_**

His eyes widened when he read Quiesta's comments done in royal blue ink, her official summation and marks, affixed by her seal under the title:

_**Finis**_  
_**Summa Cum Laude**_  
_**Degree conferred by the Board of Regents: Master Healer, Sanos Specialist in the Reversal of the Dark Arts**_

_It's well done of you, Mr. Potter. My best to you and your future endeavours. My 'Letter of Recommendation and Commendation' is under separate cover (enclosed)_.  
_Professor Carlotta Quiesta, Academic Advisor_

He opened the enclosed letter he found tucked in the front cover of the thesis. He swiftly read the handwritten lines, hearing Carlotta's cultured voice in his head as she sang Harry's praises 'To Whom It Might Concern'. With a letter such as this, Harry could get almost any position he wanted, anywhere he wanted. He felt such pride in him. There was, however, a small nagging concern in the back of his mind that Harry might not need _him_ as much anymore. He chided himself--there were all types of needs and if Harry no longer required him for this particular one, that could only be to the good. They could meet as equals now, something which, on further reflection, held quite a bit of appeal to him. He refolded the letter and placed it in the back cover.

He turned back to the paper and quickly scanned the Table of Contents. Fascinated, he turned to the Abstract, stunned by what he found in the rather long summary. While the subject matter itself, within the discipline, could almost be considered pedestrian, the postulated theories behind the methods Harry purported to have used were nothing short of controversial. Assuming his paper proved his premise, Severus regretted he'd not been there to see Harry defend his work--it would have been something to see.

No, this was no mediocre effort. He knew somehow it could not have been. Not if Harry was as driven as he said he was. And he'd no doubt he got the truth then. In fact, he could find nowhere Harry had actively 'lied' to him. Not about school, as he'd never asked nor questioned, too caught up in his own routine--assuming things were as they appeared. Harry had told the truth about his feelings. And Severus could feel the honesty today about his motives, even if he didn't understand them.

No, all of the problems to date were a result of omissions of information; something of which he himself was guilty, if truth be known, but not in this manner and not of this magnitude. Well, maybe it had been, but it hadn't felt that way at the time. He was trying to ascertain whether Harry's subterfuge had been worth it; he had no doubts his was. He couldn't explain his feelings and this overwhelming _need_ to justify the lost time when Harry had been so secretive about his work. He had to know if the reasons were within Harry or because of him or maybe both. And although he didn't know why, he suspected their future together depended on it.

He didn't skim the pages written by hand to preserve the anonymity of the author from prying eyes at the printers. Instead, he found himself drawn into the brilliance of Harry's research. His hands itched for a quill to make notes in the straight margins. There were fifteen patients involved in the study, each with varying degrees of damage due to repeated use of the Cruciatus Curse. Reading the blind case studies, he realised just how fortunate he'd been that his own brains hadn't been scrambled, as many times as he'd been subjected to the Curse himself. Some of these people had only been hit with it once, and he could find no reason within the pages of this report why some were affected more than others; there probably was no answer to the question--yet.

Reaching the end of the dissertation, he concluded the prose itself was striking, the passion for what Harry pursued clear in every word, and his closing comments and results were concise and believable, despite their initial appearance of sunstruck phantasm. There were absolutely no doubts as to the accomplishments; they'd been the stuff of newspaper articles and inquiries for months with no one the wiser as to how it had been done. In that, he approved of Harry's secrecy about the work itself and although there were no names given, with the circumstances outlined in the paper and his knowledge of the Death Eater's activities at the time, he could figure out who most of the victims were; he marvelled Harry been able to keep it so private.

He did quickly scan the data charts and references comprising the bulk of the volume; there would be more time to study them later and he fully intended to do so. This was ground-breaking work and, professionally, he was intrigued. It was also purely Harry; there was no trace of Quiesta in here. He was impressed Harry had managed to shut her influence out, considering how overbearing she was. However, he would not be surprised either, he thought uncharitably, if the reason she'd had little say in the authorship was because she had no clue as to what Harry was doing, but because he was succeeding, she let him keep on doing it.

When finished, Severus closed the thick document with a snap and sat back in the chair, thinking hard. He was starting to draw some disturbing conclusions of his own, although he had some questions. He twisted in the chair to look at Harry's back and tapped the leather cover with his fingertips. "You can actually do this? Reverse the effects of the Cruciatus Curse?" he asked quietly as if to a colleague.

Harry, still sitting in the tall window seat, turned away from the view, a thoughtful look on his face. He replied somewhat bitterly, "Quiesta thought me mad to try; she was afraid I'd either burn her star student out or make the situations worse." He went on in a more even tone, "It took months of multiple sessions to gather the data in there, but yes, in certain cases, with varying degrees of success, it can be done."

Harry hesitated. He could see their faces and still felt their pain. An indefinable sadness filled him that had nothing to do with his current situation. Despite the cures, despite the triumphs, there had been enough failures and partial successes to keep him from feeling fully good about the work he'd done. He was unsure how he could convey all this to Severus. It couldn't be contained in the dry pages of a study. He weighed his professionalism and its related secrecy about his patients against his trust in Severus. The trust won out. "I had to try. I'd see them every time I was at St. Mungos and it ripped me to see their families coming every week to visit their empty shells."

He turned back to the window, staring at the moors with unseeing eyes. "Their hope and trust was almost more than I could bear at times. For each advance, there were set-backs, but they never lost faith in me. Neville's parents, I'm afraid, were too far gone for too long to do much more than bring them a small way out of their fog; they have short moments of clarity--the wife more so than the husband, and they know their son at times. He was so happy when it was safe to finally take them home. I'm only sorry Neville's grandmother died before he could. I still work with them every now and again at their home. Each time it's a little better. Maybe someday I'll get to know them as they once were, although I don't hold out much hope for it."

Severus got out of the chair and moved to stand behind Harry. He wrapped his long arms around him and, pulling him close, laid his cheek against Harry's. He knew more than most the depth of the self-investment Harry had to have with each of his patients and their loved ones. The _Sanos_ spells required an intimacy with the people being healed; one could not stand back with any real objectivity and succeed. After all, the _Sanos_ and _Schema_ lessons with each other, when Harry was still a student at Hogwarts, had played no small part of what had eventually mitigated their initial hostility to each other. "It's never easy, is it?" he asked, trying to let Harry know he understood.

Harry rested his head gratefully back on Severus' shoulder, taking the implied acceptance and continued, "Bill Weasley took some time but in the end was fairly easy to bring back. The wrench was choosing between his magic or his many physical infirmities, not knowing what he wanted." He dropped his head in remembered defeat. "I couldn't cure anything completely; too many connections were destroyed. Arthur, Molly, and Fleur made the difficult choices of what handicaps he would have to deal with and kept my involvement secret. They told everyone else he'd come out of it on his own."

He sighed. "But Ron--I had to try. He was in there, so deep--but I could _feel_ him. There was no one else who--I broke every rule healing someone so close to me--a brother as it were." He chuckled, "Quiesta remarked afterwards I had earned my reputation as a reckless Gryffindor." Severus chuckled lightly with him; Quiesta had been a Slytherin three years ahead of him. Harry leaned closer for more support which Severus gladly gave him.

Harry choked out, "I would have traded my whole future for that single moment of pure joy in Hermione's face the day Ron spoke to her, lucid, for the first time in two years." He dropped his head, his hands fidgeting in his lap. In a small voice, he continued, "But he hated me for it, for the things he lost when I healed him. We'd not spoken since that time until last night."

Severus coaxed him to turn around, and settling between Harry's legs, surrounded him with his arms, absorbing the soft tears against his shirt. This was one of the things he loved the most about Harry--the way he threw his whole heart, his entire self into whatever he was doing, regardless the personal cost. It was one thing they had in common--only his inclination was to hide it from everyone, including Harry at times, whereas Harry hid it from most except those to whom he was close. Then it was open and bright and shining. Severus envied him that openness sometimes, others he despaired as it left Harry open to hurt if he chose the wrong person to trust, although that didn't happen as much as it used to. No, he supposed Harry had finally learned discretion, and he wasn't too certain this was a good thing anymore, not if it meant he himself was the one left out in the dark.

He remembered the incident with Ron when it happened and Harry's initial angry reaction to it and subsequent sorrow. Ron Weasley, a fine Auror, had come back from a routine mop-up raid a year after the final battle with his wits scrambled 'beyond cure' from three continuous Death Eater curses at once. At the time of his 'miraculously recovery' a year ago, there'd been public speculation about it being 'in the blood' as Bill, his brother, now a blind Wizard still working for Gringotts had 'spontaneously' recovered as well six months before.

"And this is what you and Ron reconciled last night? He accepts what had to be done?" Severus asked gently, not understanding what had been involved, but he was quite clear on the cost to Harry. He tightened his hold when he felt Harry's half-expected racking sobs, placing his cheek on his hair. Severus said nothing, just ran his hand in random comforting circles on his back as Harry rid himself of his excess emotion. Severus had been subjected to enough hysterics from students over the years to know that this was a purge, possibly a combination from the events of this afternoon as much as last night. He wistfully wished he could join him if it would bring him some peace, but alas, it was not in his nature to do so.

Harry sniffled and pulled away, embarrassed. "Sorry--I thought I was beyond all that. I guess seeing Ron last night affected me more than I realised." Severus kissed his forehead and silently handed him a handkerchief pulled from his pocket, deciding not to satisfy his curiosity over the incident. He got a partial answer when Harry said, "I missed him so much, I just couldn't let him go, not while I could still try to reach him."

And there was the key to the whole thing. Letting go. Holding him, Severus realised, in a perverse way, why Harry'd had to do it on his own. Like Carlotta, he wasn't sure he could've been calm about Harry taking such awful risks; the depth he'd gone to reach Ron alone (as he'd read in the paper) could had sucked out his own sanity had he lost control. However, unlike Quiesta, he had far more influence over Harry to have stopped him from taking those risks.

Severus cleared his throat. Measuring his readiness, he thought Harry had moved on enough to absorb Severus' next words. "I think understand why you had to do it alone. Without me. And I don't blame you for it, although I am not sure I understand why you went about it the way you did."

Harry raised wet, questioning eyes to him. "I find I was, perhaps, guilty of looking down on you in small ways, perhaps protecting you overmuch. I might have held you back because of my fears and you would have been unhappy for it, perhaps making you unconsciously taking the road I wanted and not your own. It could have torn us apart, eventually." He bent down for a redemptive kiss, which Harry gave him, moving his legs around on either side of him to draw him closer.

Severus chuckled ruefully. "Painful for me to realise, of course; I find my own base imperfections hard to swallow at times."

He echoed Harry's sigh. "However, I confess, I am curious why you did not give me enough credit to understand--and give you--what it was you needed. I have never been able to deny you anything. Nor do I fully understand the subterfuge. We're not talking about a few days or a few isolated incidents; I admit I'm as guilty of those as you. It's never easy to tell someone one _must_ do something even if it means making the other person unhappy as a result. And sometimes the best solution is to not say anything at all. This I understand."

He held Harry tight, afraid he could not live with himself if he were not honest. His heart was almost frozen, the words coming out reluctantly, inevitably. "No, we're talking about two hidden years. A lie of omissions so profound I still can't fathom it. I can dimly understand the problem now and I can accept I might not have then, but I am appalled you thought so little of me you could not share even the smallest part of something so important as your future. There is so much missing. It has gone on for so long it makes me wonder what else you have not told me. What other surprises do I have to look forward to? What other _lies_ are waiting to rip my heart out?"

Severus could feel Harry's heart pounding against him and could feel the anguish in the curl of his shoulders. Harry whispered, "Nothing more, Severus. I swear."

He lifted Harry's down-turned face and caught his eyes, holding them with his steady gaze. "I'm sorry, Harry. Gods know, I wish I could believe you. Now is not the time to discuss it. I need some space and time away to think."

Harry's eyes held fear now. Severus closed his eyes against the pain he'd caused, truly sorry there was no other way. He was not trying to punish Harry, it was only that the situation called from him a brutal honesty from which he could not hide. Not this time.

He opened his eyes and searched Harry's face. He tried to temper his words to contain coherently what was jumbled up inside him. "However, having said that and deceptions aside, I've not words enough to tell you what's in me right now. I feel so full--and empty at the same time. But know this. I do feel such pride for you and all you have accomplished. Your final paper is brilliant and something I want to go back and study in more depth. It is a shame more people will never see it; the work is sound and many could benefit from your investigation, both patients and other Healers. You've laid a good, solid foundation from which other research can be built. Well done."

Harry's eyes filled again. Never a man to praise anyone highly, Severus suspected the response was more than he'd bargained for, but this he could give him, freely and without reservations. He kissed him, drawing him closer, trying to convey with his body what his words could not.

"So tell me, Harry. With all your courage and perseverance," he grazed Harry's lips with his own, "and your abilities and talents--" he lowered his hands, pulling him tight into him. Harry groaned into his mouth. "I only have one question," he whispered, cupping his cheek. Harry raised his brows. "Is there enough left in you? In me? _To heal us?_"

Harry answered him the only way a sensible man should.

* * *

**23 June 2003** (Early morning)

A few hours before dawn, Severus roused for the last time from what was the worst sleep he'd ever had. Actually, 'sleep' was a misnomer. The twilight somnolence, full of the vaguest dreams, would suddenly turn into wide-eyed wakefulness every time Harry twitched. And given the previous amount of movement in front of him, Harry was as restless as he was.

After the third or fourth round of his insomnia he finally settled Harry in front of him, their bodies and legs curled around each other. He wondered briefly why he had awakened this time; Harry was unusually still, but somehow he _knew_ he was awake. Hyperaware, his senses honed in the dark, he heard it. The sound that had brought him around.

He gently tugged at Harry's waist, coaxing him around to face him. The reluctance with which he came reminded him of a morning four years ago when he'd had to let go of his own shame and embarrassment and native distrust to allow a then 19-year old Harry to heal him, to earn some of the trust he felt broken tonight. He pulled Harry lovingly to him and just held him, letting his lover's hot, silent tears run down his chest. He let his own flow into the pillow and Harry's hair, hardly aware they were there.

"I'm not going anywhere right now," he murmured hoarsely, kissing the top of Harry's head. "I just need time to sort this out." He thought sadly, _'I love you so much. I just don't know if love is enough, anymore.'_

"For now, maybe," Harry replied softly. "I'm such a fool."

Severus mused out loud, "I just don't know, my love. You have lived with this for four years, I for 16 hours. Everything is very clear to you; it's not to me. I find myself at a loss--I can't even sort out what I think--let alone act on it." Only one thing was clear to him--right now, he hurt inside. He nudged Harry's unruly hair off of his forehead with his nose and kissed the jagged scar. "I need to find out what is making me feel this way. Once I figure that out, then--maybe then, I'll know what to do."

Harry took what hope he could from the endearment, one obviously made unconsciously, the first of any kind he'd ever received from Severus; he'd take his victories one at a time and snuggled deeper into Severus as if it were the last time he would ever be there.

* * *

End Part III. To be continued in Part IV : Reconciliation


	36. Part IV Dissonance

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part IV : Resolution  
**Chapter Thirty Six : Dissonance**

**2 July 2003**

"You are not the only one who can deny him little," Dumbledore was saying, facing the window with his back to Severus. Given the week of silence from his protégé, he'd almost entertained the hope he could avoid this inevitable conversation. He really should have known better than that. Shaking his head at his own sophistry, he continued, "Although, I admit for different faces of the same reason. Mine to allay my mishandling of my affections towards him when he was younger, you because you love him. And even you must acknowledge he doesn't usually ask for much."

Severus made a noise of protest and Dumbledore strained to hear the younger man's barely audible, "No, not much--just all of me,"

Dumbledore turned his head to stare hard at Severus; he held up his hand, feeling every one of his 154 years when he saw Severus draw breath to continue his grousing. "Don't deny it or you'll make me hex you into next year." He turned back to his fascination with the scenery below.

Severus slumped in his chair. "Oh, jolly good," he said snidely, his anger unabated, "and here I was worried your deception was based on something profound."

Dumbledore whirled back to him, his face blazing. "Severus, I tolerate more idiotic nonsense from you than any other human on this planet in what, I assure you, has been an exceedingly long life." He paused, trying to get his temper in hand without much success. If anything, Severus' petulant sarcasm in light of what they would probably discuss pricked his ire further. "You are without a doubt the most frustrating, ungrateful, convoluted, deplorable, arrogant, discommodious prat I have ever had the displeasure of working with. And in all that time I have no idea why I continue to put up with your insults, your whinging, and your unsurpassed character flaws."

Snape flew out of the chair to lean over the desk, his hands braced flat on it. "Because you love me, you doddering old fool!" he shouted back at him.

Albus stared at him a long moment, his mouth hanging open. Then he threw his head back and laughed long and hard. Severus glared. Still chuckling, he said, "Well, yes. There is that one, small, tiny detail I may have failed to mention." Eyeing the intensity of his friend's stance, the anger covering the deep hurt and confusion, he wished Harry much patience for the future--he would need it with all that passion directed at him. He very much wanted to comfort Severus, but said instead, "Sit down, my boy. We'll get nowhere if we can't discuss this calmly and rationally."

"Are you two _quite_ finished yet?" Phineas said from his place on the wall. "In all my years, I have never seen a pair quite like the two of you. Will you stop dancing around the damned issues and do some meaningful talking? I, for one, am getting dizzy from your circling." The paintings around the room responded with a chorus of 'hear-hears' and 'about bloody time's.

Severus eyed the paintings and then Dumbledore. He asked sweetly, "Does your bloody Greek chorus understand I finally figured out how Harry used the _Desinum_ spell to _burn_ Sirius' mother? And that, perhaps, I have less patience with obnoxious portraits than he does?"

Phineas Nigellus cleared his throat. "Now, now. There's no need to get unpleasant about all this."

Merlin broke in, "I say you should hex him into the next _century_, Albus. Such disrespect."

Dumbledore held up his hands. "Severus, behave. Merlin, go find a willing, winsome wench and _occupy_ her. And the rest of you--SOD OFF!" He glared at them all. Several, including Merlin, skulked out of their frames. The rest, including Phineas, harumphed but remained silent.

"Feel better?" Severus asked Dumbledore with a smirk, his eye catching Phineas' as he sat back down. Phineas cleared his throat and smiled evilly, leaning insouciantly against the frame.

"Infinitely. Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about, Severus?" He sighed. _'Oh very good, Albus. Act as if you don't know why he's here. Merlin, I need a drink. Maybe I can get him soused and he'll go away.'_ He went to a cabinet partially obscured by Fawkes' stand and, pulling out a bottle, blew the dust off of the dark glass. He unstoppered it and poured a few fingers of the ruby liquid into two tumblers, restopppered the bottle, blew the dust back on it, and put it back in the cabinet.

He carried the glasses back to his desk and set one within easy reach of the Potions Master and, taking the other, settled back into his chair, his face lined and tired. Dumbledore sipped the liqueur and sucked in air to put out the fire running down his throat. He managed not to gasp as it hit his stomach with a series of small explosions. He felt immediately mellower.

Taking the glass, Severus took a small sip and after holding his breath, gasped. "Giant's blood?" he managed to choke out before taking another cautious sip. This time it obviously burned less but mellowed faster.

"Hagrid brought it back for me the last time he visited his kin. Guaranteed to take the wind out of your sails," he chuckled.

"More like add three sheets to my wind," Severus quipped, setting the glass down on the desk. "All right, Albus--you want me to tell you what the problem is?" At his resigned nod, Severus asked, "Why did you help Harry deceive me?" As Dumbledore was about to draw breath, he held up a hand, "No, don't interrupt, old man. This is important."

Dumbledore nodded his reluctant acquiescence. _'As if I could shut you up?'_

Almost as if he'd heard the thought, Severus raised his brows in consternation before continuing. "For the last two years, you and Potter have been deceiving me. Granted, not outright lying, but we both have enough philosophy to know lies of omission are as serious as obvious lying, maybe more so, because they trick the liar into rationalising the lie into acceptability. And you know that's true."

Dumbledore shifted in his seat and replied, "I can't deny the argument is sound, but omission does have it's place." He couldn't help thinking, _'Especially when dealing with a certain Potions Master.'_

Severus squinted at him as if he'd heard the unspoken words. He reached over, got the glass, and took another sip of the drink. "I've a sixth sense for liars that's almost infallible. It's not blinded by affection--I did not have that luxury as a spy. I can't turn it off and I can't ignore it. And in the last two years it never twitched, not once, from either you or Harry. Every day you both looked me in the eyes and _believed_ your lies. It's the only way I could have been deceived. I want to know why."

"Perhaps this one time it was wrong," Dumbledore ventured.

Severus gave him a sour face of asperity before he turned from him to look out the window. "Don't confuse the issue, Albus. Just answer the question. Why did you give in to his deception? Why did you give him the Time Turner? The records don't lie--your direct influence secured his Mastery program. I just don't understand. I thought we were friends."

"I am ever your friend, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, wishing they were already past this part.

"I trusted you. Blindly at times. We have much water under us, old man." He took another sip and, glancing at the ruby liquid, his wish it could erase the soreness he felt inside was as evident on his face as if he'd said it aloud. "I've respected you all the years I have known you. I've seen your methods and know your ruthlessness in the pursuit of your goals. You couldn't have defeated Voldemort had you not been so. And despite what everyone else says or who cast the last spell, we both know _you_ defeated him and no one else. Your decades of pulling the threads of your tangled web with hundreds of puppets on the ends were what brought about his downfall."

Chuckling, he went on, "And don't give me that dross about Gryffindors, either. I finally broke the seals on the House records years ago. I know where you were sorted. You are Slytherin through and through and as such you do _nothing_ haphazardly." He shifted uncomfortably in the large chair.

"Harry was almost sorted into Slytherin too, you know," Dumbledore said evasively, skirting the issue.

"Yes, I know. He told me several years ago during one of our more interesting conversations. It was obvious the Slytherin House was where he belonged when we first found out he was a _Parselmouth_, but the Gryffindor sorting confounded Voldemort, so it had its uses." His voice trailed off and staring into space, he started chuckling. "I have a mentor and friend who's a Slytherin but bears the benign face of a Hufflepuff. I have a lover who's a Slytherin overlaid with the gross, headstrong stupidity of a Gryffindor. Makes for an interesting life."

Dumbledore laughed. "That, my friend, is an understatement. I'm surprised we haven't driven you to drink."

Severus took another sip of the Giant's Blood. "The day is still young." His lips twisted in a parody of a smile as he said, "Stop redirecting and tell me the truth, Albus."

"The truth. You want the whole truth?" Dumbledore asked, shaking his head.

"I want _something_ true; I want your truth. I don't think any one knows the 'whole' truth and even if they did, I'm not ready to hear all of it, especially if it involves changing who I am. I'm not up to that right now."

Dumbledore's face fell. "Then I cannot tell you anything. I'm sorry. There it is. Unless you are willing to hear the whole thing _and_ willing to accept your part in it, then my words will be meaningless. We all played a part in this sorry matter."

Albus levelled a stern admonishment at Severus over his spectacles. "And _you're_ lying to yourself if you think you're not 'up to it'. I think you would change anything you could to keep Harry. You would do anything necessary to stay with him. You've already lied to hordes of Death Eaters for him, tortured for him, even killed for him. You've fought off and vanquished all suitors, protected him, and nurtured him. _You've paid for him with your very soul_. Any _fool_ can see how much you love him. I may be many things, Severus, but I am no fool."

Severus got up and paced the length of the office. Back and forth, his boots thudding into the carpet bespoke the anger he barely contained. After several minutes, with Dumbledore watching him calmly, he flung himself back in the chair. "Damn you, Albus. Damn me. What is this _truth_ you speak of? Tell me quick before I lose my resolve."

"The truth is you both love each other deeply," Dumbledore began gently, "Harry no more wants to hurt you, than you him. He didn't wake up one morning and say, 'Today I think I'm going to lie to Severus,' and I don't believe he ever intended it to go this far. In fact I don't think he thought of much at all, except maybe his fear." He moved the glass to his lips and then set it down, untouched. "I'm sorry, Severus. This is all so difficult and I'm quite sure you don't understand why I didn't stop him."

Severus shook his head, saying, "No, Albus. This much I do understand. It was not your problem, it was not your circumstance, and it was certainly not your place to tell Harry what to do."

"True to a certain extent. However, you and Harry have been like sons of different mothers to me, each with your own unique personality, but deprived of true parents all your lives. I could have stopped Harry, for all intents and purposes, at any time. But like a parent who shuts their eyes tight when their child is about to make a 'big mistake', I watched anyway with one eye half open to not only see how well you fared, but also to see if there were any pieces left over to pick up. My married friends used to tell me this was the hardest thing they ever did for their children and, I confess, I never understood why until I had to watch you both make mistakes. It was very hard to stand back and do nothing."

Quite still, like he sat on the edge of a major discovery, Severus asked, "What else could you have done, Albus?"

"I could have pointed out to him that you'd protected him for so long that when the time came for him to stand alone you didn't know how to let go. I saw it clearly, Harry only by instinct. I have known you for many years and know the more you care, the gruffer and nastier you get. It's really quite annoying at times, but I accept the defense mechanisms for what they are. As a young man, Harry had no such knowledge, so your, to him, rapid switch from evil Potions Master to concerned lover was something of a miracle; we know better. It was just an adult switch of attitude from seeing him as a child to seeing him as a man, but he never got over the inadequacy your earlier behaviour to him fostered. In this you were remiss. You never told him it was a charade."

He folded his hands on the desk. "By the time Harry came to me about a Time-Turner, he was in a state of absolute panic, yet defiant as well. I tried to make him tell you, even so far as withholding the time turner, but had about as much success as you did getting him to break-up with Draco." He shook his head at the irony of it all. "At first he resisted because he was terrified of your reaction and insecure in your relationship. Again, you'd not given him your full trust or he would not have felt this way. However, in all fairness to you, he did not trust enough to give you the chance to prove yourself. By the end of the week though, there was a resolve about him I could not deny or circumvent. He was going to do it on his own and not 'in Severus' shadow'. His words--not mine."

"He felt I had no confidence in him?" Severus asked, astonished.

"I wouldn't go so far to say 'no' confidence from you, rather 'no' confidence in himself. And after hearing what he was going to try and do with his Mastery--what he needed to learn to complete himself, to temper himself, I believe is the way he puts it, was to find the strength to do it from within. I realised his silence was the only way he could attempt it even if it meant shutting you out. I'm so very sorry, Severus. I had to choose between the two of you and Harry won my support."

"As the more favoured?" Severus queried, quite serious.

Dumbledore shook his head. "As the younger."

Severus bit out his words, obviously trying to curb his sarcasm. "I see. Purely on age?"

"No." Dumbledore made a sharp noise. "No, despite your differences in years, you both have your times where, on one hand, decisions are made with the wisdom of old men, and on the other the feckless sense of babes."

Severus started to protest, but Dumbledore cut him off. "Where he was wrong, completely wrong, and he's known it all along, was to keep it from you. But he grows. When he started all this, he stepped into it out of panic. A year later, he mentioned he knew telling you was going to get harder with time, but that each passing day, he grew a strength greater than the difficulty. Last week he knows he should have openly left Hogwarts, although, if I recall, neither one of us was fond of that action and were very keen to keep him here, so I am not sure we would have allowed it; however, it would have been in the open."

"True, I remember the threats against him. However, you are not answering my question, why did I need to be shut out in the first place?"

"Ah, that's harder to broach without offending your sensibilities. Dangerous yet wonderful, his mastery required him to have absolutely _no doubts_ about his ability to succeed. Any quibbling on your part might have doomed him to failure and maybe even risked his life. His self-trust in his own abilities was so fragile then. He values (and still trusts) your opinion so much that _any_ unkind or negative word from you could have made him falter. Will you deny that your keen wit sometimes precedes your thought?"

Ignoring the question, Severus pressed ahead with the foremost things on his mind. "'Could have', 'might have'. You're dealing entirely in suppositions," he chided.

"Am I? Can you be so sure? Perhaps so. Maybe, that's my flaw--my absolute certainty." He fell silent, remembering the progress Harry had made in those days. "You have no concept how deep he goes sometimes; Ron was not the worst of his patients overall, although he was the most emotionally devastating. I didn't correlate the connection until much later, after talking to Hermione, but Ron's harsh rejection of him and his healing almost destroyed him. There was a short period at that time when he started making mistakes. Quiesta wrote me on several occasions that she was going to pull him from the study; she was afraid and didn't want to be responsible for turning him into a vegetable. I stopped her."

"Why, Albus? Why did you stop her? Surely, she would know when it was too much?" Severus was obviously trying hard to understand, but something was still eluding him.

Dumbledore was bitter. "Was expecting an eleven-year old child to defeat Voldemort too much? A twelve year old? An 18 year old? Has Harry not always risen to the demands of others to do the impossible? _Could I deny him the one chance to challenge himself to the same standard everyone else had always expected of him?_ With all he's been through, all he's done, could I dictate what he was capable of anymore?"

He slumped in his chair. "No, I can deny him little. I could not do these things to him. He needed to find his own core, for himself. His own strength. While the incident with Ron was an unpleasant interlude, it made him realise _he was doing it for himself_. For _his_ satisfaction, _his_ sense of worth, and _no one else's_. The confidence born of that knowledge, that inner belief was astounding. He quickly surpassed even his own expectations, drew on magic he never knew he had, and he relied on no one for the inner strength to do it. It filled my heart when it happened."

"It scares me, Albus. Where is the caution? You can't throw yourself into everything heart and soul and have any expectations of a long life. Where's the temperance? The thought? You speak of his foolhardiness as if it is a good thing. Is it not better to admit defeat every once in a while to be able to help more along the way? Some things need to be taken in small steps in order to build the larger ones."

Dumbledore chuckled, "Ah yes, there speaks the Slytherin Potions Master, come spy, who was _always_ cautious, _never_ went in places where he shouldn't have been and, of course, _never_ suffered when he got caught taking his perfectly _calculated_ risks. Oh no, not our _thoughtful_ Slytherin who was almost sorted into Gryffindor. Don't forget--I was there, too."

"You don't have to get nasty about it," Severus grumbled. Phineas chortled in the background. "And it still does not explain why it had to be hidden from _me_."

"You don't give up do you?" Dumbledore asked with a deep sigh. "I had hoped you could figure it out without me actually having to say it." He turned to Phineas, "You were right, I do have to spell it out for him."

Phineas' smugness was palpable. "Of course I'm right. Snape and I are two of a kind and very thick-headed when we don't want to hear something. As I told you, a sledgehammer is sometimes the kindest way."

"Excuse me!" Severus said, waving his hand, "Will you two _please_ stop talking about me like I'm not in the same room?"

"I'm sorry, Severus. Phineas and I have had some discussions about this." He shook his head, his mien serious. "All right, why the subterfuge? Because you would have stopped him. You would have convinced him it was too risky and held him back. I would not allow it. Is that plain enough?"

"Who made you our keepers?" Severus asked, incensed at his meddling.

Dumbledore laughed gently. "I did--along with the rest of the Order--especially Remus and Moody. We've been watching over the two of you ever since the end of Harry's fifth year." Seeing Severus' inflammatory reaction he said, "Oh, don't get all bristly with me. You should be glad you had the approval of the entire group, even Molly and Arthur. Had they not approved and pushed you both along, you'd still be the lonely wretch you'd always been instead of the loved but miserable man you are today."

"You had no right to do this, Albus," Severus shouted. "We worked hard on our trust, we earned it--inch by inch, step by step. You had no right to interfere in our progress."

Dumbledore felt his temper give. "Oh grow-up, Severus! Your progress came too late. Harry grew up and was ready to fly before you were ready to fully trust him not to fall."

At his snide best, Snape replied, "Really? And who was the grown-up in all this? You? Who 'can deny him little'? I think as the injured party here I've been the most adult about the whole thing." He was breathing hard, trying to rein in his temper.

Impatient now, Albus countered, "No, actually, I'm afraid you have some more growing up to do my friend." He sighed, tired of the whole argument. "And you're still not listening to me. Harry stands on his own now, answering to no one but himself. Oh, he'll still give you due consideration. You'll still have influence. He loves and trusts you so much--he won't be able to make his way through life and not take your feelings into account."

He waited for Severus to digest his words and then went to the heart of the matter. "Can you say you have given him the same regard? The same trust? Think hard before you answer, Severus, think of what you have been doing the last year that has involved the same, if not more, risk than what he has done."

Seeing his words finally sink into the stubborn Potions Master, he shook his head. "It goes two ways; you both deal with tremendous power. He takes his chances with the same thought you do. You must realise--this Mastery of his will not end, Severus. As time goes by, he will risk more, give more, and _you are going to have to let him_. Even if it means losing him."

Severus hung his head, defeated. "I'm not sure I can, Albus," he said softly.

Dumbledore got up and came around the desk to stand next to him. He placed his hand on his shoulder, saying sadly, "Then, you are both lost."

* * *

TBC


	37. Part IV Cacaphony

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part IV : Resolution  
**Chapter Thirty Seven : Cacaphony**

**10 July 2003**

Arthur paced from frame to frame, keeping Severus silent company through his long walks about the castle. Severus didn't speak to him, just bowed as he always did to acknowledge his presence upon arrival and in leave-taking. Arthur didn't mind. He'd heard from Phineas the seriousness of the problem weighting his friend and was content to walk with him in case he needed to talk. Besides, he had his orders from Dumbledore and Merlin, not that he wouldn't have done it without them.

Every night now, for the last several days since he'd talked to Albus, Severus had risen from his cold bed after Harry was asleep and prowled the hallways, unseeing of his surroundings, unaware of anything other than his thoughts. He'd decided early on not to go talk to Cerise, although for the life of him, he didn't know why; she'd always been a stalwart companion to him in the past. He suspected, though, it might have something to do with the sharp edge of her tongue and how well she wielded it when she was annoyed with him; he didn't have any resistance to it right now and already knew how foolish he was, or so Albus had already told him. Her haranguing him, at this point, would be of no help to him whatsoever.

Excepting Arthur, his constant sentinel, the solitude had felt right.

With nothing resolved and less understood, he'd stumble to their rooms near dawn and fall senseless into sleep until noon. Severus was grateful he had no students for the summer school classes until late August and his little nagger told him Dumbledore had planned it that way on purpose. He still hadn't figured out why he had this compulsion to haunt his old habits, but it did ease his mind somewhat even as it frustrated him. 

Severus had thought long on Dumbledore's words and realised he was no closer to reconciling them now than he was the day they were uttered. The only clear concept he had was that if he wanted to break this unproductive cycle, which he desperately did, he--they--needed to get out of the castle and go somewhere far away. A break of place just might give him the distance he needed to finally comprehend what had happened and what it was doing to his life now. He'd briefly considered using the trip the staff had given him as a birthday present to do just that, but realised they needed more than a weekend to resolve this. No, it needed time as well.

While his problem before had been his cold bed, he realised he was now creating the same problem for Harry; they'd not touched since the day after Harry had 'confessed' his transgressions. His delay was hurting them both and yet he was helpless to stop it. They went through their daily routines, polite but distant--he was unable to look Harry in the eyes sometimes and found it painful to see the anguish in Harry's face when he thought he wasn't looking. However, under the circumstances, he was unable to do more, to give Harry the reassurances (or anything else for that matter) he needed.

He ached for Harry sometimes. Not for the sexual side of their relationship, although that tension was building within him, the chastity self-imposed. No, he missed the closeness, the feeling of Harry's arms around him, the warmth of his breath on his back as he slept, knowing he was always there for him. He missed the laughter, the spontaneous kisses Harry would give him just because, the kind regard and the little gestures that had always made him feel safe and warm. 

Harry's eyes haunted him. He remembered the first time he'd really seen them and his shock when he'd seen his reflection in them. Not the tiny mirrors showing his face swimming in pools of green, but the realisation of how those eyes and the person behind them had moulded him into the loved person Harry saw with them. He wanted to hold Harry, love him, stay with him--he just wasn't sure if he could.

He was helpless at this point to stop the estrangement. His honesty demanded nothing less from him for he knew, right now, he could not return the loving gestures with the same spirit as they were given to him. An integral piece of him was broken--his trust, never easily given, was so profound, so deep with Harry. He'd never opened to another human being like he had with him and Harry's deception was tearing his insides to shreds, for to him love and trust were the same thing. Now he was closed again. Like a clam under attack, his self-preserving instincts prickled; he needed to find a way to reopen a place for Harry. The only thing giving him hope was that he wanted to, needed to, he just didn't know how.

While he conveniently skirted his own breach of faith, he knew that if he did not come to grips with the whole situation very soon, he was going to lose his lover forever. His sense of urgency keen, the thought of life without Harry made him die inside; the reality of living with him made his heart ache.

So he walked with silence, his rambling thoughts and Arthur his companions. Tonight, just like last night and the nights before, would probably be no different than tomorrow night. Except this evening he was wearier than normal, both in body and spirit. He supposed if he were the type of person who got their jollies with self-diagnosis he would label himself with 'despondent' and 'depressed'. He decided he'd done all he could this night.

Earlier than normal, he was rounding a corner on his way back to his chambers when he noticed someone walking next to him, one moment absent, the next there. It was Poppy, probably the last person he would have expected to see. He waited to see what she wanted to talk to him about, but she was silent, content to just keep him company if he so desired. He realised he was not the only one who knew how to wield silence; he debated waiting her out.

He finally threw up his hands in disgust. "All right, I give up, Poppy. What do you want?"

"I want nothing, Severus," she said with a secret smile. "I could ask you if you know what you want?"

Arthur stopped and watched with sharp interest.

_'Oh good gods, here we go again,'_ he thought, tired of talking about it. "I just want the truth," he replied honestly.

"What is the truth, Severus?" she asked, glancing sideways at him as they walked.

"Even you cannot be that obtuse, Poppy. The truth is the truth. It is what it is," he exclaimed, exasperated.

"Really? I wonder--is it? Is the truth a lie to the person you are telling it to, if they don't believe you're telling them the truth? And does the truth, which has become a lie because of it, carry any less or more weight than an actual lie to the person who believes it not?" She waited patiently, knowing it was convoluted.

Was it? It was--and it wasn't--depending on the viewpoint of the person receiving the truth--or telling it. Damn, who knew she ran this deep? He replied, impatient but without rancor, "All right, you've made your point. It's about perspective. What about it?" He suspected he would not like the answer.

She stopped and faced him. "Are the lies of omission Harry told you any less serious in their magnitude than the countless omissions you yourself have made to him about things just as personal?"

Severus squirmed inside--he'd purposely avoided looking at this. "I think you're splitting hairs here," he answered evasively. "The two circumstances are entirely different."

She laughed. "Oh absolutely, I agree. Harry's concerned his future. Yours delved into your past. Totally different."

She lowered her head to look at the floor, hiding her smile, and regarded him from under her lashes. He was reminded of all the females he'd known in his life who had worn _that_ look to gauge a man's reaction whether they were coyly flirting with, or dropping an unpalatable 'truth' on, the man to whom they bestowed it. Given that he could not imagine Poppy _ever_ flirting with anyone and certainly not with him, he suspected she was about to get unpleasant.

He was therefore not surprised when she blithely continued, "Are the half-truths you've perpetuated about your _past_ life, your _past_ relationships any less blameworthy than his hiding his _future_ to you? Have you not made him miss out on as much of your life, your motivations, as he has deprived you of his? Are you not just as guilty of fearing his reaction as he fears yours? Have you told him how much you care; what coin you've paid for the privilege of being with him? How you almost died inside when we thought he had? Are you each not afraid to lose the other?"

Severus didn't reply; he reckoned she'd not really expected him to. He compressed his lips, struggling to hold back his sharp retort for her to mind her own business.

Her soft voice chastised him. "Did you both not have the right to react to the other's challenges, the same right to refute them? Do you both not face the same fears of retribution, and the same fears of rejection? I assure you, Severus, the risks you took at The Veil were far more numerous than the risks Harry took with his studies. Fie on you, Severus. You're a fine one to take him to task when your attempts to retrieve Sirius bore as many consequences. Harry deserved to know when you took such risks and had the same right you believe you had to try and talk you out of it. And failing that, to say goodbye." 

Her face very serious, she continued, "Harry was wrong not to tell you his fears. He was wrong not to face up to them, to you, and admit himself the fool. And yes, he was very wrong to perpetuate a lie that robbed you of two years of his life, and in a large manner, two years of your own. However, you are wrong in not telling him why you act the way you do. Why you push people away. Why you protect him the way you do. Why the ones he loves are the ones you cannot abide. Why it is so hard for you to trust. What trust means to you. How much you trust him. That you love him. You can't even say the words to him, can you?"

He hated it when she was right. Severus glared at her.

"Oh leave off, Severus. I've seen better glares out of First Years. Come to think of it, that's when I first saw yours." She chuckled at his discomfort. "It seems to me, you both have confessions to make and reparations to make to each other. And I suggest you start doing it soon. The number of complaints we've been receiving from the house-elves about dusting the back corridors is getting quite oppressive."

Admitting defeat in the face of her logic, he swept her a bow. "What would you suggest, oh wise and great one?"

He knew she would not resist the urge to tease him. "Well, will wonders never cease? About time you reckoned my true worth, Severus." She regarded him kindly. "I would suggest a holiday away from Hogwarts. Perhaps something for Harry's birthday which is coming up soon, although I expect you already know that."

Severus snorted. "Irony is a strange thing. I was just thinking the same thing when you joined me." He knew he probably shouldn't ask, but did so anyway. "Any suggestions?"

"Actually yes, I have just the spot--remote, benign, and safe--it's a place for lovers and reconciliation. Muggle, of course, but with a magic all its own."

Benign? Safe? He wondered if there even such places left in the world, Wizard or Muggle? And where are the strings attached to your little gift? Scepticism laced his voice as he asked, "And where would this 'special' place be, dear Poppy?"

Her eyes sparkled with outright mischief. "Now that would be telling. I think I'll keep it as a little surprise. Don't worry so, Severus. I'll make all the arrangements. All you need to do is pack and be ready to go on the appropriate day. Consider it my birthday present to you both since I missed yours."

"You'll probably send us to Siberia," he groused.

"Hardly. Albania, maybe--I hear it's lovely this time of year." She chuckled at his dazed expression.

She sobered and fixed him with a piercing gaze. "Severus, take this time away. You need to honestly look at the situation and ask yourself if it is worth a lifetime of pain and loneliness just to assuage a wounded ego for mistakes made in youth--both yours and Harry's. Must I painfully remind you of Mecadia and the consequences of not loving enough and fully? Or Lucius and the lessons of _true_ betrayal?"

He shied away from her words and the ugly images they provoked. He shook his head to her. No, she did not need to remind him--he regularly did that fine all by himself.

She put her hand on his arm, her eyes earnest. "Listen to me, Severus. If you've heard nothing else, hear this. When you get to be my age, you will look back on it and kick yourself for missing even one moment. Don't miss one day, one minute with someone you love. Once he's gone, he's gone. Pride is a fleeting thing; gone is forever and once past, it _never_ comes back. Memory is a terrible substitute for a kiss or a touch. I know it sounds trite but old adages, just like old women, always have their basis in truth." She kissed him on the cheek and left him in the deserted hallway.

Well, not exactly empty. He glanced over at Arthur, still standing quietly in a portait of a professor dozing at his desk, a pile of parchments at his feet. Arthur threw his his head back to the side towards the man, his brows raised, eyes rolling, and grinned. Severus nodded, taking the hint, and after a small bow to him, made his way back to his quarters, the chuckles of an astute young king filling his ears.

****

Severus returned to their rooms directly. He hesitated and, looking at the clock, decided he had enough time to work on the lesson plans for the coming term before he went to bed. If he was going on an extended trip, he wanted to make sure he was caught up.

He lit the fire and, once blazing, he turned back to his desk, ready to work. He pulled the chair out and as he prepared to sit, a piece of parchment, folded in half, fluttered to the floor from its place on the seat of his chair. He knew without looking who it was from, Harry always left little notes on Severus' chair where he was sure to find them, separate from the chaotic mess that regularly covered the now pristine surface of his desk. He opened it with some anticipation; normally the notes were about inconsequential things, but with a cheery regard that always left him smiling. As he quickly scanned the lines, his stomach clenched and a sense of profound sadness filled him when he reached the end.

_Severus:_

_I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have any Raven's Claw and Darrow Root you could spare? I tried getting some today from my supplier, but he said you'd bought the last of it and it will be a while before he gets any more in stock and no one else seems to carry either of them. I wouldn't ask it of you, but I need it for a potion for a private referral. If you have some you can spare, could you either let me know and I will collect it, or just leave it on my desk. I don't know your preference, but I can either replace your stock when it becomes available again or pay you for the amount I need: 3 Claws and 2 grams of the Darrow Root._

_Thank you in advance,_

_Harry_

Severus sat hard in the chair, stiff as his thoughts raced. Raven Claw? Darrow Root? He could think of no potions requiring them except a few dark ones bordering on light and used primarily for healing. Not an unusual request. All of them difficult to make, one of them downright dangerous. His first instinct was to tell Harry no, ask him which particular potion he wanted, and then offer to make it for him. After all, he was the Potions Master. 

Then the whole import of it hit him.

No, what had his stomach in knots and his hands shaking was the tone of the note. Distant, professional--in other words perfectly polite and ordinary--except--except there was no Harry here. So much he'd missed. Did he know if Harry was ready to make such a potion? He must be or he wouldn't have asked. Or would he? Was he going to do something outside his abilities just to avoid him? Would Harry be that careless, that cruel? Should he trust him with it? Harry's words rolled through his mind, Poppy's echoing as a counterpoint, Albus' weaving a dissonance through them. 

He couldn't, he just couldn't do this anymore. He'd always known his own mind, always known where he stood in his life, where he was going and this confusion, this--indecision--these feelings roiling inside him, his vague disquieting dreams all came to haunt him at once, with the words of his friends and his lover making a cacaphony within him. If he didn't resolve something soon, he knew he would shatter, disintegrate into a thousand little pieces that no one, not even himself, would ever be able to reassemble.

The parchment fell unheeded to the ground as he put his head on his arms on the desk and let it come crashing out of him, the rasping breaths devastating in their desperate silence. Shoulders heaving, he let his despair flow through him, let it, for one moment overtake him. There was no healing for him tonight, only for some unnamed persons who would take Harry's attention while all that remained for him would be the dregs of their relationship. He'd told everyone what he wanted, but could not find it in himself to believe it anymore.

When he thought it could get no worse, it did. The wracking pain shuddered through him when he thought of a life without Harry, what it would mean to ever be the recipient of cold cheerless letters, cold harsh bed sheets, and a cold empty heart. To go back to his joyless life, devoid of even a tiny shred of compassion from those around him, even from the one he loved the most. His only recompense the terror in the eyes of his students as he fell into his old lonely patterns, the avoidance of his colleagues when he could no longer stand their cheerfulness because it reminded him too much of how empty he'd become. Could he go back to that again? Could he really live his life alone again? Did he want to live it alone again? Would he have to live it alone again?

His desolation filled him, widening the cracks breaking everything he'd come to know. And when he'd almost accepted he could expect nothing more than what he had, because after all, who could truly want and love Severus Snape, salvation came in the feel of a pair of warm arms sliding down his own, the hands grasping his own hard, a familiar, loved body pressed against his back and side, the head, with its messy black hair and emerald eyes he couldn't see, but could envision in the greatest detail, settled its welcome weight on his neck. The arms tightened around him comfortingly, the hands stroking his now, as the hopeless grief continued to rip through him. And in between the wrenching sounds emanating from beneath his folded arms, _his_ lover, _his_ Harry spoke, his voice low and slow as if he wanted to make sure Severus heard every word. And he did, he could feel them reverberate through his nape and into his heart, making a new rhythm, a new song.

"Oh gods, Severus. I am so sorry. I would take it back, all of it, if I could. I would change it all. I am such a fool. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was never about you--it was always about me, and I'm sorry, so sorry. I can't say it enough and yet I know it won't bring it back--"

The steady stream of words, such simple words spoken softly with such honesty, the anguish in them a balm to his soul, melded with those spoken by the others until he began to see the other side of them, the messages of hope and love they'd contained, and woven through them all was the warm concern, the loving regard of the man who held him now. He felt calmer, more centered, perhaps even able to see a brighter side to this whole thing.

Finally purged, his face uncommonly hot and swollen, his awareness slowly returned to the world around him. Not at his desk anymore, but on the couch in the sitting room, his body lay loose across Harry's; he had no memory of moving here. It was an odd position. Usually he was the one lying with his head and back supported by the arm cushions, his arms which would wrap securely around his lover, his lips trailing random kisses in the hair below them.

But not tonight. 

Tonight, his lullaby was the steady beating of Harry's heart beneath his cheek. His comfort in the embrace of arms and legs holding him fast. His peace in the words soothing him to dreamless sleep.

"I love you, Severus Snape." A kiss on his head bestowed a blessing. "I always will." A hand on his cheek, in his hair, gentled his fears. "You are my life and I will never forget that now." Severus' eyes grew heavy. "I take you as you are." His breathing slowed, the dawning sleep a welcome thing. A breath hitched above him. "I will never forget this, Severus. I will never forget how much pain I caused you with my foolishness. I don't think I can ever tell you just how sorry I am. Gods, how I love you."

Severus dreamed of nothing this night.

****

The next morning, Harry woke alone on the couch. Stiffly, he got up and, as he mindlessly went through his morning ablutions, he could feel the emptiness in the apartments that matched the emptiness in his heart. He didn't know what had awakened him from his depressed slumber last night, didn't know what had impelled him to throw the covers back in a rush and run into the sitting room, but one look at Severus at his desk had been all it took to send him flying across the room to do what he could to take away the palpable misery he'd caused.

His thoughts dark, he pushed aside the visions in his head of Severus at his desk, remembering instead, for just a small moment, the heavy weight of Severus on his body, watching the sorrow turn slowly into something else. Hope? Or was that too much to ask for at this time?

Time, he had to give it time, how ever much Severus needed to make his decision. He dodged his hopelessness, knowing he had to concentrate today, on his patient, on his potion. Potion. Damn, he still needed those last two ingredients. He started for his desk to get his notes on suppliers, determined that, even if he had to go to America, he was going to find those last two components he needed.

He stopped short in the doorway to his study. Two bottles awaited him on his desk. He rushed over to them, his heart pounding. They sat on a piece of parchment with a few short lines of Severus' writing. He picked up the first wide mouth bottle and smiled at the three large pairs of Raven's Claws; Severus had even known he'd needed pairs, not singles. He set it aside and looked at the second, smaller jar. Precisely measured were two grams of Darrow Root, not one grain more or less than he needed. He lifted the note, blinked hard to focus, and made out from Severus' unusually neat script:

_I would prefer you replace the stock when you are able, Mr. Potter._

_Severus_

_(If you are making the Veloxia Curatio Potion, mind the third step. Darrow Root this fresh can have quite a 'kick' to it, if you're not careful.)_

Harry grinned through the tears threatening to spill. No, some things never changed. And he was grateful for it.

**** TBC ****


	38. Part IV Discord and Harmony

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part IV : Resolution  
**Chapter Thirty Eight : Discord and Harmony**

**12 July 2003**

Harry winced and could almost wish she was sneering at him. Her eyes, sparking dangerously with the carefully controlled fury within, held him captive, filling him with her disdain.

"--of all the halfbaked idiocy. Your fatuity is by far the most ill-advised, ill-judged, irrational gibberish I have ever had the misfortune to encounter--"

He could have ignored her had she screeched, but her velvet voice, made worse by its quietly spoken precision, turned his insides to pudding as each clearly enunciated word fell steaming within him.

"--What were you thinking of? No, don't answer that--your obvious mindlessness is surpassed only by your immaturity in this matter." 

Oh, it was deceptive all right--quiet, melodious, genteel even, each syllable from the beautiful mouth, deadly, her aim accurate.

"--Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You may actually have broken the wizarding record for witless blunders--"

He sincerely wished he'd never answered her summons.

"--held by Wilifred the Faceless and he at least had the decency to limit his dimwitted attempts to shrink his nose to his own person."

Sensing a lull, he ventured, "Well, I--"

"Silence! Did I give you leave to speak?" At the shake of Harry's head, Cerise continued her harangue, "Stand up straight, Mr. Potter." Unconsciously, Harry did so. "Better. I am not moved by your 'hang-dog-feel-sorry-for-me-I-messed-up' attitude. You should be--never mind, they outlawed that years ago. Have you any concept of what you've done?"

Harry hesitated. Was this one of her rhetorical questions or one he was supposed to answer?

"I'm waiting, Mr. Potter." 

Cerise's arms were folded tight against her chest and Harry had no doubt there was a foot tapping impatiently somewhere under her full robes.

"Um, yes ma'am. I do." Six years of higher education and for the life of him, Harry couldn't think of anything more articulate to say. He felt twelve again standing toe to toe with Snape the first time he'd exploded a cauldron. Come to think of it--

"Oh, you _think_ so? When we've already established your puerile state?" She leaned forward to the limits of the portrait and hissed, "I think _not_, Mr. 'Um, I do'. And tell me, have you bothered to tell Severus any of this yet?"

Finally a question he could answer. "Ah, yes I have."

"How did Severus take the news?" 

Still pinned by her blazing eyes, he answered like the simpleton she claimed he was, "Not well."

"I can well imagine." Certain she was going to blast him again, the mildness of her rejoinder kept him off-balance. His suspicion that this was her intent was confirmed when she continued. "He hates lying more than anything. It's the only thing he ever demanded from me. Didn't matter who I was or what I was--as long as I told him the truth, even when it hurt, we were all right."

Relaxing a little, Harry decided to test the roiling waters of her temper. "But did he return the favour? I mean, did he always tell you the truth?"

She raised an incredulous brow at him. "Of course not--he was a spy. But he never lied."

"Huh?" Wasn't this a contradiction?

"Just because he didn't tell me everything didn't mean that what he DID tell me wasn't the truth. You _do_ see the difference?"

Harry considered it and said cautiously, "In a way--sounds like rationalising to me."

Impatient, she waved her hand at him. "Harry, surely you know the difference between a lie of commission versus one of omission?"

Ah, another easy one. "Of course I do--they have courses for that."

Taken aback, she asked, more curious than anything else, "You study this in school? Really?"

He took the first steady breath he had the whole evening. "Yeah, ethics and philosophy."

She shrugged, not impressed. "Ah well, most of us learned it the hard way, as you are now, when someone got hurt. All right, Mr. 'I-learned-it-in-class-but-haven't-a-clue-what-it-really-means', are they both lies?"

"Yes," he answered firmly, happier to be back on solid ground.

"Absolutely?"

"Well, they say an argument can be made for consequences, but I don't agree with the notion. If I did, then what I did against Severus would have been all right _until he found out_, at which time it would have been wrong. It can't be both."

She looked at him with pity. "Well, actually, my dear, it can, but hopefully you won't know that for at least a few more decades. So tell me, Mr. 'It-can't-be-both-because-I-say-it-can't', if one omits to tell the truth are they still telling the truth?"

He thought about that a second and slowly said, "No, I don't think so."

She snorted. "Then where're your doubts in the matter? You omitted the truth, therefore you lied."

Harry replied with some heat, "Perhaps, but it went both ways. I know I didn't tell Severus about my mastery, but he doesn't tell me about what he's involved with that is important to both of us, either. On one hand it hurts, on the other it just makes me angry, and on another I am quite certain I don't want to know.

"Hmmm--three hands, eh? Have you seen a Healer about that?" she asked dryly.

"Huh?"

He could tell she was impatient with herself now; it made him feel somewhat better that she had less control than she let on. The feeling disappeared with her scornful, "Never mind. Harry, surely you don't think the two sets of circumstances are even remotely the same, do you?" 

"Actually, I do."

She shook her head. "Pish. And here I thought we were making progress. All right, let's see if I can explain this to you in words of no syllables or less. Severus hid from you something he did--you hid from him something you are. There is a difference, you know. See?"  
  
"No. No, I don't 'see'. I hid something I 'did' as well." He could see the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth. The storm clouds gathering in her eyes were frightening and he prepared himself to get blasted.  
  
Cerise held onto her temper by the thinnest margin. Her voiced thrummed in its intensity. "Hardly. Who is Mr. 'Rationalisation' now, hmmm? Severus may not have told you certain _incidences_ in his life and perhaps these omissions may have made it more difficult for you to guess where he is coming from on any one issue. However, you kept two fucking years of your life from him. You denied him every pound of joy he might have derived from your triumphs and kept him from sharing an ounce of the weight of your failures. You denied him your life while all the while proclaiming 'Oh, Severus, I love you, I want to spend my whole life with you.' Bah! What life?"

Her voice filled with righteous anger, each word sharpened into a knife she hoped would pierce his blind obtuseness and selfish hide. "I ask you again, Mr. Potter. What life? Which one did you deign give him? The one you hid from him? The one you did not share with him while you grew up? As you grew into another person? Into a person who expected, later, when it was safe and done, to just drop the truth on him like a sack of rotting potatoes, assuming he would eat them, worms and all, just like he has with every other reprehensible action against him? Was this your _love_?"  
  
"Stop! Just stop!" Harry cried, sinking to the floor, his legs unable to hold him any longer. Her words burned the shame into his skin, branding him with her virtue.  
  
"No, Mr. Potter. _I will not._ It is time you heard **_my_** truth. You have committed the boldest lie. Pure and simple. And then, to top it off, you expected Severus to come waltzing back to you, happy and complacent, his heart full of love, saying, 'Harry what a good boy you are. Of course I'll take you back. I love getting my arse kicked by those I love. Everyone else does it, why not you?'" Her voice filled with a venom she could no longer contain. "Fah! He deserves better. Why are you any different from all the others who have taken advantage of his vulnerability? From those who have, at least, honestly hurt him to his face. Frankly I am so ashamed of you that for the first time since I died, I wish I was not a painting so I could kick your sorry bum into the next parish."

Harry was on the floor, bent over, his face buried in his knees. Cerise watched him stoically, her calm returning, judging the moment. She knew this young man, and he was so young, was salvageable, but she needed to break him, make him see the truth which the others were glossing over, before she could build him back up. It was a fine art she'd learned with her clients; she'd been sought by many a guilty man for her talents. Counselor, friend, retributor, punisher, and whore, all rolled up into one.

Judging the time right, she said softly, sadly, as if he would break with her words, "Do you really know what you did to him? Has no one told you?"

He raised dry anguished eyes to her and straightened, still on his knees. He shook his head. "No, but I have seen." 

Still quiet, she could see him strain to hear her words. "Well, I will, if only to keep you from doing it again. After seeing him a few weeks ago after a year away, I was appalled at his condition. Thin, depressed, doubting, Severus Snape--morose? It's not to be borne. And all because of you, a foolish _boy_. A stupid, childish, infantile reprobate who has the power to wither another man, a fine man, a man who did not in any way deserve to be treated the way you did," she finished, her voice stronger, convincing.

Harry dropped his head and studied the flagstones. "I know. I was wrong. He is punishing me in his own way."

Her waspish voice stung him. "Obviously not enough if you can still sound like you're feeling sorry for _yourself_.

Her barbed comments hit home. "He won't touch me. He won't speak to me."

She snorted in contempt. "And you wonder why he has withdrawn?"

He shook his head again. Slowly, he said, "No, no. I know." He paused and considered her a long moment. She was like an avenging angel, her sword of words bright and flaming. He felt purged by her righteousness and found himself saying, "Cerise, you're right in everything you've said. I wish the others had been as blunt." He looked down the hallway, torn. "Is it hopeless? Should I just leave and let him alone, let him get on with his life?"

"Only if you want to kill him. Gods know why, but he still loves you. I suspect he just doesn't know if that's enough anymore."

"What should I do?"

"Apologise."

"I did."

"Obviously not enough or he would be thawing to you." 

He snorted and shook his head.

"Harry, let me give you a tiny piece of advice. There is no such thing as too much apologising. Ever. One must keep doing it, constantly, and with feeling, until the injured party tells you they're sated with your humiliation and says 'enough all ready'. Until that happens, and it may never with Severus--no one who has ever needed to do so has ever apologised to him. Once you start, he may take it in his head to make you pay for every transgression you've ever done, in full just for the novelty of it. I would also strongly suggest some judicious grovelling as well. Your knees are too clean. Grovelling is always good, as is a little head, but I'm sure you already know that."

She smiled inside at the small twist to his lips. Good, she'd found something to which he could relate. "Stay contrite and polite. Under no circumstances should you lose your temper or your patience--you've lost the right to do so. And nothing in writing, unless it's business--written apologies constitute evidence that can be looked at over and over. It just makes it more real, and therefore worse."

"But what if Severus picks a fight? What do I do then?"

He was _so_ young, she almost took pity on him. "I seriously doubt that--Severus is easily injured by those he knows and loves well, so when hurt by them he goes to ground, holes up in a little den of his own making to lick his wounds, safe from prying eyes. In this he stays quiet, unless he's angry. Then you can usually gauge how much he loves you with how much he yells. Loud and long and you're all right--silence is deadly with him."

She watched him mull over her advise and could almost follow his thoughts as they raced through his head. She was struck by a sudden insight and knew she was not quite finished yet. There were doubts still showing in his eyes. "Tell me Harry, how is it you don't know these things? You're his lover. Surely you had some issues to work through before this escapade."

"Actually, it's never come up before. I mean, he's yelled at me, but only when I messed up on my lessons before we were--intimate. Since then, he's been fairly even-tempered." He blushed as he thought about the 'other times' Severus wasn't quite so quiet.

"Really?" she arched a brow, lost in thought. Intimate? Was this an area where she could draw him out? A subject that could break up even the most stalwart couples if there was discord? Lord knew there'd been enough of them to pay the bills in great comfort. "And you've had no--disagreements? Even about sex?" She knew how Severus had always shied nimbly from the subject and was frankly curious as to how they'd worked their way through that formidable obstacle. For a small while, he'd always crawled back to her establishment after his little 'dalliances' with Lucius and, given the nature of some of his injuries, she suspected Voldemort as well, although, as usual, he refused to speak of it to her. She and Georg, a young man in her training to whom Severus had taken a liking, had always quietly healed him and offered what succor he'd accept.

When she saw Harry hesitating, she said gently but with a small bit of humour, "Come now, Harry. Surely you don't think _I_ can be shocked by anything of that nature, do you?"

Harry evaded the question. "Well, we've had a few spats and rows, but they've always been short-lived and about inconsequential things like being late for dinner or delaying him for a class." Harry chuckled dryly. "Of course, he was usually equally responsible for his tardiness; it was always fairly easy to make him see the other side of it."

She smiled knowingly. "I can well imagine. So you had no other problems, then?"

Harry's face turned an interesting shade just shy of crimson. Cerise smiled at his discomfort. "Um," he started productively, "I don't know if--"

"It's all right, Harry. I'm just a nosy old woman. If you and Severus are satisfied, then that is all that matters."

Harry blurted out, "He says he is, but I don't know, sometimes. I mean, um, that is, oh hell--we've agreed to no penetrative sex, and I don't know if he's truly satisfied with the decision." he finished in a rush.

Cerise stared at him and then thought about it. She murmured, "Well, that's certainly a unique way of working around his aversions." Then the tone of his voice caught up with her. "You have--issues--with it as well?" She watched his shudder with interest.

"Yeah, you could say so. I was," he struggled with the words, "assaulted, raped several years ago right before Severus and I got together, and the few times we tried 'it', 'it' was--unpleasant--for both of us."

Ah, so they had at least that much in common, probably more; Severus would never have made the commitment to this young man that he obviously did unless there was much more. "Well, seems the two of you have been right sensible about it--sex should never be--unpleasant. It should be a sharing, although many never figure it out over their lifetime." When he nodded thoughtfully, she asked, "And you're happy with your 'arrangement'?" When he said, yes, she added, "And Severus 'professes' to be satisfied as well?"

"He 'says' he is."

"Well, then. There you are. What's there to worry about?" When Harry said nothing, she continued, "Harry, look at me." When she had his full attention, she continued, "I promise you, Severus would _never_ lie about something that profound and personal to you both. If he says he's fine with it, he is. He may not always tell you everything, even the important things, but when words actually come out of Severus's mouth, they are always the truth and honestly spoken. He just doesn't open his mouth all that much." She laughed lightly and muttered, "Well, at least not for me, but he was rather fond of Georg, though."

"Georg?" Harry queried, his face betraying his surprise.

"Ah, never mind. You silly boy, you walked into this having no idea his reaction, did you?" She shook her head. "Well, I am surprised the two of you got along so well from the start, usually it's a rocky road; Severus never does anything the easy way when there's a tortuous route to take." She took heart at Harry's small smile. He was on his way to recovering--good.

"No wonder he's been so despondent. He trusts you, you know, if he made such compromises for you. He doesn't do that lightly, at least not in my experience." She stared at him until he began to squirm under her steady regard. "Get your knees dirty, Harry."

*****

Severus stood just out of the way behind a column, barely able to make out what Cerise was saying to Harry. He'd been out on his evening walk and had been shocked when he'd heard Cerise talking to someone. What the hell was she doing this far from her corridor and damn it, what was it with his friends? First Remus revealed his involvement in The Veil with that damned note of his, which he still wasn't sure hadn't been done on purpose, and now Cerise was letting Harry know about the one boy-toy he'd ever allowed himself. He felt his mouth curl in an unexpected smile, wondering how Georg fared. He hadn't seen nor heard from the young man in almost a decade, although Severus always sent him a postcard at Christmas accompanied by a small purse of Galleons. Although he'd had no further relations with him, he'd made sure that sweet boy never went to Knockturn Alley when Cerise had died.

He somehow missed Harry's departure and he himself was about to turn and leave when she called out, "Severus Snape. Don't you dare leave this corridor without saying hello."

Sheepishly, he turned the corner and noticed immediately someone had moved her so that she was right in the middle of the corridor with a good view to either side. "I suppose you heard your lovely boy here, earlier?"

"Only the tail end of it, Cerise."

"I would not mind his tail end, Severus. He has grown beyond delicious, into serious, wet-my-drawers handsome. My, all that nice lean muscle--when DO you sleep?"

"Cerise, that is just so--well, it's not an image I can relate to, but if it makes you happy and keeps you amused--"

Changing the subject, she asked, "Tell me Severus, were you ever going to come down and talk to me about this--problem--with Harry?"

Severus shifted his feet and realising the incongruity of the situation in which he found himself, summoned a bench from behind him so he could at least be more comfortable. Once settled, he shook his head, saying, "No. I had not intended to 'come down' and tell you all about it."

Cerise harumphed. "I see. You were just going to leave me in the dark?"

"Actually, your corridor is quite well lit," he temporised.

She was upset with him. "Ah, and you intended me to find out from a bloody teenager? If I hadn't run into Arthur--"

Severus glanced to the side and spied Arthur in another frame, looking incredibly guilty and everywhere but at him. Severus glared at him.

Cerise saw where his gaze went and said to distract him, "Really, Severus! Where are your manners? Do you have any idea how unsettling it is to travel through the corridor with the ceiling at the floor and the floor over your head?" 

Severus laughed at this and had this sudden picture in his head of her move. "So the house-elves carried you upside down, my dear?" he asked with saccharine sweetness.

"Gave me a bloody headrush, it did," she groused, glad she could get him back into a better humour.

They both chuckled and he knew without a doubt that avoiding her had been a bad idea. "Thank you, Cerise. Seems my avoidance of you qualifies as a bad mistake on my part. One of quite few, lately."

"Well, I needed a change of place and the house-elves were kind enough to oblige my request."

"You had them move you?"

"Yes, well--I had heard some disquieting rumours and cornered Merlin and Phineas one evening. They were most 'enlightening' as to what had happened, so I decided a little walk-about wouldn't hurt if I was ever going to get my hands on Harry; he would never have found me in my normal spot."

"Harry? Why would you--?"

"Yes, Severus. Harry. I was most upset with the drivel Albus and the others were filling his head with, allowing him to think he could get away with it. So we had a little 'talk'. I merely gave him my 'opinion' on the matter."

Severus winced. "And I am sure he was thrilled to receive it." He remembered her 'chats' with the women and men of her establishment and had blessed his good fortune he'd never been on the receiving end of them until much later in their relationship. But he'd learned from them as well; Cerise could be quite succinct with the way she chose her words with such obvious 'care'. And almost lethal.

She watched his face and knew the memories running through his head. She'd been most grateful after her death when he'd helped ensure her people had made it into good, clean establishments. She cleared her throat, drawing his attention. "You do know that for all his growing up, he is still just a boy in many ways. As are you, my friend."

He laughed mirthlessly. "I think I qualify for 'grown-up' by now, Cerise."

"Oh? And denying yourself even the simplest pleasure with Harry is 'adult'? Shunning him, avoiding him even as you did me? And you've already said that was a mistake." She smiled within at his grimace--her truth had hit the mark as she'd intended. She continued in the same gentle tone. "How do you expect to resolve this if you won't even talk about it with him, and failing that, taking what comfort you can from each other?" She was alarmed at the pain in his dark eyes. Oh, so expressive, if one knew them at all.

"I can't, Cerise. It hurts too much sometimes to be with him."

"Only sometimes? Well, there's some hope in that. It gets better with practice, Severus."

He was about to reply to the negative when he remembered the comfort of the other night. And in the morning. The slim hope he'd held onto and tried to convey to Harry with his inadequate note. He sagged into the bench, undone.

"How are you, really, dear heart?"

"I am tired, Cerise."

"I can see that. Tell me something I don't know."

"How is he, Cerise?"

"You don't--oh!" Without thinking, she had reached out her hand to touch him. But then she remembered and sighed, hanging her head. Without looking at him, she said, "He's fi--no, well--not rea--damn it! He's doing about as well as you are."

Severus stared at her. Cerise--without words?

Still staring at her lap, her fingers twisting with each other, she said wistfully, "Sometimes, Severus, all that holds our fractured pieces together is our ability to reach beyond ourselves, to touch the ones we love."

She raised her head and just watched him. The silence stretched on for what seemed like hours, although the moonlight on the wall showed it to be only a matter of a few minutes and still they stared--unmoving--just breathing. Every now and again, his eyes would close briefly and his head would lift as if he were sniffing the fresh breeze after a spring rain. Then he would open them and each time he was a little calmer, a little more relaxed, a little more himself.

Without warning, he stood and, with purpose, walked over to her portrait. Standing close, he drew his wand from his waistcoat and slid it in his sleeve with the tip against the base of his wrist. Softly he breathed a spell, complex and musical, one she'd never heard before. And while he chanted the repeating incantation, he raised his hands and smoothly slid them, fingertips first, into her painting to cover her hands on her lap.

She gasped when she looked down and saw their fingers entwined; she could feel them, they were real. He shifted and held them for a few moments, the thumbs tenderly rubbing the backs of her hands, while she gripped them hard, the solidness bringing her the sense of his life. She lowered her face to them and he reached up to cup her cheeks, the thumbs and fingers running softly over her face. She turned her head and kissed first one, then the other. Sweat broke out on his face, and he swayed with the effort to hold it. Although the tempo of the spell never changed, it kept getting softer, as if he were running out of air, until it ended and they stood, separate, on their respective sides of the portrait.

She drew a shuddering breath. "Severus, I--thank--"

"Shhh. It's all right, Cerise, I understand. He paused, choosing his words with care. "You are ever there for me, Cerise. You always have been. I--I just couldn't abide you looking as lonely as I feel. I needed it, too," he ended on a whisper. 

With stiff nod and a whirl of black robes, he was gone, Arthur faithfully following at a respectful distance. And as she watched him stride down the hallway with almost the flair and speed of old, she blew him a kiss, touched her cheek, and smiled.

**** TBC ****


	39. Part IV 'Ano 'Ai

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part IV : Resolution  
**Chapter Thirty Nine : 'Ano 'Ai**

**16 July 2003**

Severus stood in the middle of the sitting room, looking around to see if he'd missed anything. His bag, larger than he normally carried when travelling, lay ready at his feet. He'd followed Poppy's instructions to bring nothing magical with him (except his wand, of course), so the bulk was inevitable. He fidgeted with the high mandarin collar, buttoned to the top of the woven silk shirt he wore, feeling rather odd without his robes. While she'd assured him their destination would be warm, she'd been cagy as to its location and so he still had no idea where "that place" was.

Harry left the bed chamber, hefting his own rather large bag, which he set down next to Severus'. "Wow, you look good," he said, noting the flax coloured, long-sleeved shirt tucked into loose, pleated black trousers over no-heel black leather boots. While the clothes fitted Severus exceptionally well and hung perfectly, his shiny hair drew Harry's attention most. Severus had kept it long but on Madame Pomfrey's instructions had tied it back with a thin strip of black leather into a low-lying ponytail. The swept-back hair revealed the pale sharp angles and planes of his face, lending it an austere grace in repose; without the concealing strands in the way, the long hawk-like nose accented his face rather than dominated it.

"I feel naked," Severus groused, pulling a piece of parchment out of an envelope he had tucked into a pocket of his bag.

"I'd like to feel you naked," Harry muttered hungrily. "Well, what does Poppy say we have to do now?"

Severus quickly scanned the handwritten lines trying to ignore his response to Harry's words--the last few weeks had been difficult for him as well. He handed it to Harry with an exasperated sigh after only reading half through. "Her notes make little sense to me. Perhaps you would understand them better since this seems to be instructions to us on Muggle travel. She intimates they use something called a 'plane', but that can't be right--perhaps she meant train?" he asked hopefully.

Harry read it through and then started chuckling. "Oh yes, they use planes all right. Aeroplanes. Very noisy, smelly flying machines, I might add. I remember going to see an air show for Dudley's birthday when I was quite small. And of course, one can see them flying overhead all the time, although I've never been in one." Severus nodded, now knowing of what Harry was describing. He'd seen them before, but from far away, very high up from where they normally flew their brooms.

Reading further, Harry asked, "There's another envelope?" When Severus pointed to the thick packet sticking out of his bag, Harry added, "We're supposed to open it now. It contains passports, a Muggle credit card drawn on a Gringotts account, a Portkey, and some Muggle cash."

Bending down, Severus pulled the bulky leather envelope out of the bag and they went to the dining table to lay out the contents. Indeed, everything was as described--a blue piece of something Harry called plastic with raised numbers and his name, Severus Snape, in raised block letters, two small booklets with gold lettering, and five thick bundles of American paper currency in different denominations. Harry picked up his passport, grimaced at his Muggle picture, and then exclaimed, "Hello! They've already been stamped for entry into the United States: New York, Los Angeles, and Honolulu." They looked at each other and said at the same time, "Hawaii?"

Harry continued reading. "She says there's a two-dollar bill in the money. It's the Portkey to the airport. When we arrive, we are to go to the Pacific Air counter and 'check-in' for our 'E-Tickets' under each of our names." He looked at Severus. "I think I've been away too long from the Muggles--I don't know what half of this means either, but I guess we're about to find out. According to this," he tapped the foolscap with his finger, "we need to leave in five minutes. Oh, and she says to hide our wands as pens. We can carry them safely that way."

Severus immediately turned his into a quill. Harry made a face, saying, "A pen, Sev, not a quill. Like this." Suiting actions to words he cast an illusion charm turning his wand into a silver fountain pen which he handed over. Severus raised a brow but said nothing, studying the pen to get a feel for its form. He changed his quill into something identical but gold. Handing the other pen back to Harry, he pocketed his own.

Harry finished the list of instructions saying, "She says we'll be met at our final destination upon arrival, and after that we're on our own but not to worry, so is everyone else--we shouldn't stand out." He snorted, "Easy for her to say. She also mentions something about tipping and not to forget to do it lavishly?"

"She did indicate she'd been where we're going before, so I am willing to take her words at face value until proven otherwise." He looked perplexed. "I am assuming tipping is the same for the Muggles as it is for us." Severus was still sceptical but almost willing to try anything once, if only to escape. Despite his stoic appearance, he was eager to leave.

Severus placed the envelope back into a side pocket and fastened it securely. He wasn't certain he trusted the Muggle latch, but given he had been told not to use magic except in the direst of emergencies, he didn't see where he had much of a choice. They each picked up their bags and, holding the ends of the two-dollar bill Severus had pulled out of the wad of cash in the envelope, they both felt the hook-in-the-belly sensation as the Portkey took them at the appointed time.

Bright colors and glimpses of open water flashed beneath them. After an exceedingly long transport time, they eventually appeared in a men's toilet room in a very large stall with rails on the wall near the water closet. They stumbled slightly on landing and Severus took a few moments to orient and rid himself of the temporary dizziness. Given Harry's dazed expression, he could only assume Harry was as distressed by the transfer as he'd been.

Harry cautiously poked his head out the door once he'd figured out the catch and, seeing no one in the room, he stepped out with Severus following. They quickly left the wash room and found themselves in a grubby outdoor area with a long counter spanning from one end to another of an extensive sheltered pavilion, which bore the name "Commuter Terminal" in bright yellow letters on the fascia of the roof. It _was_ warm, cloudy, and there was an unpleasant chemical smell about the place. "Must be the aeroplanes she was talking about," Severus muttered, breathing in the thick moist air.

The long counter, upon closer examination, was broken by open slots which seemed to belong to different concerns of aeroplanes. Looking down the line of names like Moloka'i Air and Mahalo Skies, Severus spotted the sign saying "Pacific Air" first and they headed over to the appropriate section of counter where a petite, brown-skinned girl stood, her long hair held back by something fuzzy. "Aloha," she said, smiling. "Welcome to Pacific Air. Do you have reservations?" At Harry's and Severus' cautious nods she said, "I'll need your names and a picture ID for each of you."

Harry and Severus looked at each other. They retrieved the passports from their bags. Severus handed his to her first saying, "Severus Snape. I believe there is an 'E-Ticket' waiting for me?"

"Oh, you must be exhausted," she said, looking at the passport. "It's such a long flight from London. How long have you been in the air?"

Harry spoke up, covering for him, "Oh, we lost track of the time, but I think it took forever."

She laughed appreciatively, plucking a long paper card out of a noisy machine, "I can believe that. Here you are Mr. Snape," she said handing him something she called a "Boarding Pass". "Your plane leaves in 20 minutes and you'll need to go through security, yet again. You will also need to carry your bags with you. All luggage is stowed by the pilot. Sorry 'bout that."

"It's no problem, I assure you, we're inured to it by now," he said in his clipped accent. "I'll wait for you over there, Harry," he said pointing to an open area a few feet off.

Harry went through the same thing Severus had, the only difference being the girl noted how "handsome" Severus was. Harry took the hint and kindly told her they were 'together'; she pouted and said, "All the cute ones are _Mahu_."

"She thinks you're cute," Harry said, eyeing his arse as he joined Severus.

"You must be joking," Severus said straightening, visibly appalled anyone would think him 'cute'. He looked back at the girl at the counter. She winked and smiled. He gave her a tepid smile in return and turned quickly away, shuddering.

The trip through security went smoothly. They did as they were told, showed what they were asked to show, and didn't argue, even when Severus' bag was searched by the armed guard. There were some raised brows at the envelope of cash. Harry set off the metal detector when he failed to remove his belt, but the local security men were pretty easy-going about it, although they were watched as carefully as everyone else.

They entered a long room with rows of seats fixed to the floor. One wall was made of glass and they could see the small planes sitting out on the smooth concrete, waiting for their passengers. One in particular, white with red marking, had a man in a plain uniform, with a clipboard in hand, walking around his machine, looking at his list and making marks on the white paper in front of him. The plane was incredibly tiny. Severus turned to Harry and asked, "Muggles don't actually fly in those do they?"

While the words were spoken quietly, Harry quickly looked around to see if they'd been overheard. "Shhh, Severus. We're supposed to blend in."

Severus followed Harry's eyes sweeping across the room. He quietly said, "Harry, we are not only the palest people in this room, we are quite easily the tallest. 'Standing out' seems rather inevitable to me."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. I feel like Gulliver," he said, eyeing all the mixed races in the waiting room.

Severus laughed as he neatly rolled up his sleeves to mid-forearm. "Aren't you hot?" he asked Harry pointedly, looking at his long-sleeve shirt jacketed over a navy vest, faded blue jeans, and trainers.

"Not yet, but the day is young." He was about to add something more when the pilot they'd seen checking over his plane was at their side.

"Mr. Snape? Mr. Potter?" When they both turned to face him, he nodded his head and held out his hand, "Hi there. I'm Pete Drew, your pilot."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Severus said, taking and shaking the man's hand. His grip was dry and firm; Severus took heart from it. Harry followed suit.

"It says here from your travel agent, a Mrs. Pomfrey, that neither one of you has ever flown in a plane this small and that you wanted the scenic trip. That right?"

_'Whatever was she thinking of? We've never flown in any plane.'_ Severus thought as he said, "Er, I suppose so--what exactly is the 'scenic route'?"

Pete laughed at their discomfort. "We'll be flying by the mountains on our way in. Don't want to spoil the surprise but that side of the island is absolutely breathtaking. None of the bigger commercial 'liners can get close--has to be one of these babies," he pointed to the small airplane, "to get up close and personal."

Harry was excited. "That sounds just fine," he said, checking to make sure Severus was all right with it as well. Seeing his nod, he asked, "Where are the other passengers?"

"You're it. The plane only seats four, plus the pilot. Is this all your luggage?" They nodded, bemused; it had seemed quite a lot to them. He hefted both bags easily and said, "Let's go, then. We have a small window they'll let us take off. Have to let the big birds fly, you know."

_'No, we don't know, but I suspect we're about to find out,'_ Severus thought as they closely followed the pilot out on the tarmac as he called it. When they got to the stairs, Pete eyed them, saying, "Neither one of you will unbalance us, so sit where you want and buckle up. I'll just stow your bags."

Harry was already up the stairs and bent over in the cabin, choosing a seat by the window in front of the wing. Severus chose the seat immediately opposite him behind the pilot. They watched Pete lift a lid over the port engine behind them and store Severus' bag in the cavity there. He closed and locked it and went around to the other side and stowed Harry's in a similar place on the other engine. While they were waiting for him, they both eyed the foreign array of instruments on the dashboard of the plane.

Entering the plane and turning, Pete quickly pulled up the stairs, which turned out to be the door. With the twist of a long lever, it locked. "Ready?" When both nodded, he began what he called a "pre-flight spiel" which consisted of helping them with their seat belts and showing them where the life preservers were. He chuckled at their nervousness and Severus reckoned that if they had a water landing, there probably wouldn't be enough of them left over to warrant their use.

Pete slid awkwardly into his seat, a protuberance with a lit map, recently added, making it difficult for him to sit down normally. He pulled a thick set of hard earmuffs off a peg set into the dash. He immediately began to speak softly to someone named Tom, and Severus quickly realised that somehow he really was holding a conversation. While he watched Pete's hands flip up rows of switches, Severus was amused by his _sotto voce_ comment about the 'odd ducks' (which he assumed meant them) and that while the younger one was overtly excited, the older one he wouldn't play five card stud with. Whatever that was.

He started the engines, their loud vibrations rattling throughout the small Cessna Chief (as he told them while the propellers started) and after that, all conversation ceased, impossible over the roar of the engines. A lengthy trip down a series of roads took them to a long runway and with much bumping, yawing, and swaying the little plane was airborne. During the taxi they both discovered what he meant by "the big birds"; huge planes, capable of taking hundreds of passengers, were standing wingtip to wingtip along the outside of other long, low buildings off in the distance.

Born of volcanoes, the city of Honolulu lay below them, breathtaking in its magnitude. Severus had seen London several times from the smoggy air before, but it in no way prepared him for the sight out the small window. The crowding of the tiny close houses crawling up the sides of the mountains and creeping fingers of high-rise buildings insinuated in verdant valleys, seen through the clear air, spoke of the vast number of people living in such a small place. They soon left the city with its crescent of pale man-made beaches and tall glass hotels behind. Over the open ocean, the turquoise water was so clear they could see the bottom, where shallow, the depths measured by how dark blue the water was.

The plane ride was fairly stable. They'd hit an air pocket every now and again where the tiny craft would seem to fall out from under them and then right itself, but they'd both flown on brooms; the sensations were not all that different, although it was rather unnerving flying within the confines of the plane and not out in the open air. They eagerly looked out the windows. An island could be seen in the distance, two of them actually, the sky clearer over the ocean than from where they'd left. After flying for more than an hour over open water and in and through some small clouds, they were soon gliding over the tip of the first island, which from the air looked like a figure eight on its side. The plane dropped incrementally until they were skimming the northern coast sightly above the cliffs. There seemed to be fewer people here compared to Honolulu.

Pete was right--the view was astonishing--what he could see of it, that is, through the windows on the other side of the plane. Severus chanced it and moved to Harry's side right behind him. When the wing tipped down slightly, Pete noted the shift in weight and made the necessary adjustments to even them back out.

Deep clefted mountains coloured in impossible greens were broken by large and small waterfalls cascading down their near-vertical sides ending in pools where tiny figures could be seen swimming. A narrow two-lane road hugged the undulating cliffs; the numerous switch-backs looked treacherous, but a line of cars braved the twists and turns. At odd intervals, black sand beaches would open in wide bays along the coast, their purity marred at times by tents scattered across the sand and bathers clogged the waters.

They rounded the edge of the island, banking south where the cliffs broke to reveal wide expanses of pasture lands nestled at the feet of the mountains as they receded into the interior of the island. The foothills were dotted here and there with clumps of animals that on closer inspection were revealed as cattle and horses. The wild coast they continued to fly over opened into one single narrow beach nestled among the rocks lining the small cove, the shingle a dark black--volcanic rock pounded by millions of years of violent surf. "Not a place to swim, then." Harry said out loud to Severus around the edge of the seat.

Banking further south, the plane started its descent and, all too soon, the flight was over. They made a rather bumpy landing and taxied near a small building. As they came to a stop, Severus noted their plane was the largest in the field, although there were several strange looking machines with their wide propellers on the top and a few craft further off even smaller than the one in which they'd travelled; Severus surmised they were private as a couple of them did not look like they could carry more than the pilot and a single passenger. Pete turned off the engines; the silence was deafening.

"That was a bit of all right," Harry exclaimed. Pete smiled and opened the door to the plane, dropping the stairs as he did so.

"Welcome to Hana, Maui," he said as he climbed down the stairs.

Harry and Severus exchanged a quizzical glance. "Maui?" Harry mouthed, his brows raised.

Severus shrugged, he'd vaguely heard of it before, one of those exotic facts learned in Muggle geography as a child; he'd not paid it much attention when young, and the name teased his memories in much the same manner as knowing the capital city was Honolulu.

Almost two hours after they'd left Honolulu, they unfastened their belts and stiffly debarked behind Pete. Severus stretched and arched his back while Harry collected their bags from the pilot. Humid but not too warm, he decided the air carried a moist softness to it not felt on O'ahu. "Well flown. Our thanks to you for a splendid flight," Severus said to Pete, taking his bag from Harry. "The view was everything you said it would be."

"Our aim is to please. Glad you enjoyed it. There's a car waiting to take you to the hotel over there," he said pointing to a bright red vehicle parked near the building off to the side. "I hope you enjoy your stay; there's no place finer than Hana." He had his clipboard out again and shook hands with both before turning back to his plane intent on his list. He waited until they left him to raise the luggage compartment lid on the back of the fuselage near the rear rudder. Almost instantly several minuscule owls and brown bats dipped out of nowhere and picked up the letters and packages within. Almost as quickly they were gone. It happened so fast no one noticed. He smiled and checked another item off his list.

* * *

Halfway across the tarmac, Harry stopped and took off his outer shirt revealing a vest with "The Weird Sisters" emblazoned across the front. Usually it flashed, but he'd spelled it to stay still. He stuffed the long sleeve shirt in his bag, and the two of them set off again towards the car. It was ancient; neither had seen one like it before. At their approach, the driver, a husky older man, climbed out of the open front seat and greeted them. "Mr. Snape? Mr. Potter?" When they both nodded, he continued, "Aloha and welcome to Hana, Maui. I'm Kimo and I'll be driving you to the hotel. Where are your bags?"

Leaning over to Harry, Severus said quietly, "There seems to be some confusion about our bags," he chuckled wryly, "Evidently, we did not bring enough."

Harry nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he said to Kimo, "This is it."

If Kimo was surprised, he hid it well. "What kind of car is this?" Harry asked, running his hand over the glossy surface.

"It's a 1937 Packard. We use it to transport our guests to and from the airport and out to Hamoa Beach. She's a beauty, ya?" He ran his hand possessively along the hood, polishing the glossy surface where Harry's hand had briefly rested with a soft chamois until it gleamed.

"Oh, yes, a right beauty," Severus said, his sarcasm luckily lost on the older man. He was about to remark it looked more like a small lorry than a car, when Harry caught his eye and gave him one of his 'don't even think about it' glances. Severus resisted the urge to say it anyway, but instead climbed into the spacious car when Kimo held the door open for them.

On the relatively short drive, Harry leaned over the front seat and asked Kimo, "How far are we from Hana?" He'd seen no town, only a few scattered dilapidated houses set back into the foliage of the mountain vegetation.

Kimo laughed in an easy manner and regarded Harry from the rear-view mirror, his eyes crinkling. "You're already in it. Hana isn't really a town. It's a _place_." His eyes back on the smooth, narrow road, Kimo swept his arm wide out of the open side of the car, continuing, "From the airport to the bay and way up into the mountains; the whole thing is Hana."

Bemused, Severus followed the movement of his arm and realised Kimo was talking about a fairly large 'place' indeed.

Slowing, the old car turned right off of the main road. They drove between two lava rock columns marking the entrance to a stone driveway and rounded a circular drop-off point. As Kimo got out and opened the door for them, they eyed the long, low single story building built of white stone and light coloured wood to their right. While they stepped out of the car, he pulled their bags out of the boot and set them to the side near the front desk to their left, which was housed in a separate structure from the main body of the hotel. A reflecting pool in front of them stood calm between the two.

Severus handed him a bill, which, judging from the smile lighting his face, was probably too big, but they had plenty of them, so it didn't much matter. "Thank you sir. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Giving them a sketchy bow, he climbed back in the driver's seat and, shifting the car smoothly into gear, drove off, leaving Harry and Severus in another world.

* * *

'Ano 'ai.  
Ancient word meaning aloha or 'welcome'; a warm salutation, still used.


	40. Part IV Ho'oponopono

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

+ + + +

_*Edited for FF.net--just a little--374 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.  
  
Mea Culpa if this is racier than an "R", but this is not a "fluff" chapter; there are some things happening essential to the rest of the book. I also apologise if it "feels" choppy, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

+ + + +

Part IV : Resolution  
**Chapter Forty : Ho'oponopono**

**16 July 2003** (Continued)

Curious, Harry looked around the hotel and noted it seemed to be nothing more than a series of connecting rooms and seating groups, wide open to the elements, with broad stone columns at regular intervals supporting a low pitched slate roof. By craning his neck, he could see all the way through to the other side where there was a manicured lawn sloping down to the ocean far beyond. He turned and quietly asked Severus, "Where are the walls?"

Severus, his eyes travelling rapidly over the planned wildness of the landscaping separating the buildings, said without looking at him, "Doesn't seem to be much use for walls--I suspect it is more important to catch what breezes one can rather than shut them out. Although I suppose in inclement weather, those shutters tucked against the columns could double as such if the need arose. They seem quite stout."

Harry nodded and reckoned Severus could be right, seeing they were placed strategically along the front and back of the building. He found the openness of the hotel a bit unnerving, acclimated as he was to heavy stone walls and living in the undeniable security of a dungeon. He focussed his attention instead on the fountain and pool in front of him, openly admiring the fat urns standing above the still water, each filled with cut bird of paradise stalks. Behind the pool, between the desk and the main hotel ran a low black stone retaining wall, above which were masses of bright green ferns and verdant ivy cascading down its front; the broad walkway in front of it started at the front desk terrace to their left, ran behind the reflecting pool and, emerging on the far side, joined the first stone terrace of the hotel proper. There was no one about except an anorexic woman in khaki shorts and a white tank top leaning on the upper counter, anxiously speaking to a much younger woman behind the counter. 

"It's very peaceful here," Harry remarked, his quiet words belied by the sudden strident tones of the woman whinging to the front desk clerk that her 'cell phone' didn't work. She had to have it. How was she to conduct business without it? Did they realise how much money she was losing by not having it?

Trying to tune out the angry tirade, Severus raised a brow at Harry. "Toad or frog?" he asked as an aside.

Harry chuckled wickedly but only said, "Severus, behave." As an afterthought, as the harridan continued haranguing the hapless woman at the counter, he leaned closed and said, "Definitely toad." They snickered together.

Having heard quite enough, Severus approached the front desk with the same caution he used when Horatio was molting. He wasn't sure this woman would bite, but she certainly had fangs. "Excuse me, madam?" he asked, wading in to the rescue of the flustered clerk.

The woman, her hair a brittle red cut very short, rounded on him. "Are you the manager?" she asked haughtily in a flat voice that could cut glass, her thin magenta lips pursed into an unforgiving straight line.

Severus gave her his most neutral face. "No, I don't have that singular honour," he replied blandly.

"Then who the hell do you think you are, butting in?" she demanded loudly.

Severus briefly considered telling her he was the person who had a strong urge to turn her into a purple toad with pink warts, but Harry wouldn't let him; however, deciding that would probably not be one of his wiser ideas, said instead, "Actually, I came over to tell you a bee flew into your hair, but if you're not interested--"

She started screeching, frantically running her hands through her cropped hair, her cell phone forgot. Severus smiled evilly as she rapidly left the area to escape the imaginary insect.

He walked up to the counter and dead-panned, "Seems she had a bee in her bonnet." The young clerk covered her smile with her hand. 

He was about to ask her how one 'checked in', when a slender young woman in a long, form-fitted red dress with white flowers approached him from across the terrace and held up a garland of orchids. She stood on tiptoe and made to place the flowers over his head. He lowered it, almost bowing, and she slipped the _lei_ over, looping it around his neck. She placed her hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, saying, "_Aloha_ and welcome to the Hana Hotel." When he said his thanks, she moved on to Harry.

Severus lifted the flowers to his nose and inhaled the delicate fragrance of the small pink blossoms; he had several varieties of orchids in his potions stock, but none quite like this and certainly none this fresh. Snorting, he ruefully halted his habitual ruminations of how best to preserve them for later use, scolding himself to just enjoy them instead, but he knew they would eventually make it to the shelves of his stock room anyway. Looking back, he saw Harry had also got a _lei_ and was quietly talking to the girl, who blushed becomingly. Severus shook his head, amused by both his unruly habits and Harry's charm.

He'd no more turned back to the counter when another woman came up to him with a steaming bowl of hot, wet towels. She smiled and silently handed him one with bamboo tongs and he gratefully unrolled it, wiping his hands and face, the fragrant steam surprisingly refreshing. She had a second bowl, which she held out to him and he placed the now cold, used cloth in it. While she moved off to give one to Harry, a third woman bearing a tray approached and offered him a frosted glass of a pale pink liquid.

"Juice?" she asked politely, handing one to him. "It's passion fruit and guava."

He shrugged, taking the icy glass and sipped cautiously. He raised his brows; it was delicious, not sweet at all, and very mild. He drained it, saying, "Thank you. Passion fruit, you say?"

"And guava--both are grown locally." She smiled, her teeth white and even, contrasting with her tanned face. "There are bottles of it in the refrigerator in your room should you want more." She turned and carried the tray over to Harry.

Severus turned back to the counter, bemused, wondering if there were any more surprises before they would finally be allowed to 'check-in' as Poppy had called it.

"Mr. Snape?" an older woman at the counter asked him. He stared. He couldn't help it. Her hair was obviously quite long and peppered with grey, but it was pulled up in a heavy French twist with the seam hidden by a cascade of fragrant, white flowers. There was a rare dignity about her one sees particularly in older women; she carried herself like a queen. "I'm Malia, the general manager of the hotel. I wanted to thank you for rescuing Kahealani," she gestured to the younger clerk behind her, "from an--awkward--situation. We do try to warn our guests when they arrive that their phones won't work here, but--"

"It's quite all right," Severus remarked dryly, "I assure you, it was my pleasure."

She chuckled, a rich sound. "Your cabin is ready for you. I just need your credit card for an imprint and then we'll be all set. 

Severus removed the card from his back pocket and handed it to her. While she ran the card through some kind of machine, he tried to place her accent--not quite pure American with its flat intonations, it had a hint of home with her rounded, almost plummy tones. But there was also a sing-song quality to it he finally decided must be unique to the islands. He set it aside when she handed back his card along with two other, similar pieces of white plastic. "You're all set. These are your keys, one each for you and Mr. Potter. Should you lose them just let your valet know and we'll issue new ones with a new code." 

He raised a brow and glanced at Harry. When Harry shrugged, Severus asked her, "Valet?"

"Oh, my apologies; I assumed your travel agent had told you of your cabin's amenities."

Severus smiled wryly, wondering what other 'amenities' Poppy had conveniently forgotten to tell them. "It must have slipped her mind," he said dryly.

To cover her apparent discomfort, Malia gave a small smile and said briskly, "That has been known to happen from time to time. Please, allow me to explain." At Severus' nod, she continued, "Each of the private cabins' fees include full spa privileges and the use of a private valet and maid for the length of your stay. The valet's purpose is to take care of all arrangements you may need to make for your stay, such as meals and excursions, much like a concierge. The maid sees to your housekeeping needs and provides turn-down service should you request it. All you need do is let each of them know your preferences."

Severus looked over at Harry, who was avidly listening to the whole exchange. He turned back to Malia. "Our primary wish is privacy. Perhaps we can speak to them later this afternoon to set the terms of their service?"

"That is doable, or might I suggest, your valet can drive you to your rooms and you can discuss it on the way?" At Severus' taciturn face, she temporized, "Or I can give you a map and you can walk there instead."

"Which would you prefer?" Severus asked Harry, looking around at the greenery surrounding them. He felt Harry's hand on his shoulder, standing by his side and contemplated his lover, his stern eyes softening.

"It's such a lovely day I think I would rather walk, if its all the same to you, Sev. We can talk to the fellow later." His eyes were everywhere at once and Severus had to admit everything required a second look from the light polished wood of the counter where they stood to the volcanic stone walls with their bright foliage. Harry turned from Severus' steady regard and asked Malia, "Is it very far?"

"It's about a half hour casual walk, less if you're in a hurry." She smiled at them both. "I'll have your bags taken there immediately. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Severus thought about it a moment. "Actually, I have a few questions. What times are meals served? Can we eat in?"

"Meals in the main dining terrace are available at the hours posted in the guest book in your rooms; reservations are recommended but not required, except on Friday nights when there is local entertainment. The lounge is always open after 10:00 am. Should you want in-room service, as most of our guests prefer, your valet will obtain the day's menu for you and can assist in making palatable choices should you be unfamiliar with our local cuisine. The valet places the order and the meal is brought to you at the time you request. We try to be flexible and kitchen staff are available at any time as is the wine steward. The guest book contains information about all of our other amenities and, of course, the spa."

Severus began to understand why it was all written down, the amount of new information was almost overwhelming. "Ah, thank you. We shall certainly look at it later. Also, what is the customary tipping policy here?"

"We discourage you from tipping the staff on an individual basis unless, of course, you wish to do so. There is a section--"

Severus held up his hands. "I know--in the guest book." 

She smiled broadly. "Before you check-out, you will be given a list of the staff who helped you during your stay along with a guide as to the normal rates for extra services provided. It's not extensive by any means and you fill out the form with the amounts, if any, you deem sufficient. The total is then added to your overall bill and distributed accordingly after you depart. We find it helps prevent over-tipping; after all, the staff are hired to do their jobs well. Tipping is for service above the norm."

"Very good. You said you had a map?"

She pulled one out of a shallow drawer and drew on it a thick line showing the meandering route running roughly diagonally across the property. Map in hand, they said their thanks and were soon on their way, stopping where the paths divided to consult the paper Harry held, Severus pointing to the proper path. Her eyes followed them out for quite a while. Smugly, she made her way back to her office, thinking she'd have to Floo Poppy and let her know they'd arrived safely and find out what she wanted next. She chuckled to herself, remembering Severus' quip to Kahealani about 'a bee in her bonnet." Indeed, given his reputation and her own brief observations, Malia suspected he would have preferred to turn the hassling American into a lovely toad.

****

Severus and Harry followed the broad stone path in companionable silence. Within the first few minutes of their tranquil stroll, Severus' hand brushed Harry's and, without thought, he took it, entwining their fingers, something he would never consider at home in public but somehow seemed all right here. 

The near silence, disturbed only by the light breeze whispering through the fronds of the coconut palms and flowering trees lining the walkway, the soft cheery call of the small, grey finches with their perfectly groomed coats dotting the cropped lawn, and the faded murmur of occasional voices or laughter from the cabins they passed, gave them ample room for their thoughts.

Poppy was right; there was a subtle magic to this place and Severus could already feel a calm contentment filling him. The problems of the last few weeks floated away with the soft breeze brushing his face, leaving only a sense of well-being. He knew they would return to him, eventually, but not right now. He'd been gifted this time alone with Harry.

Cerise, who often saw his heart better than he did, had also been right; it did defeat the purpose of reconciliation if he and Harry did not talk to, nor touch each other. He hoped this time apart with his lover would provide the impetus for them to heal. He tightened his hold on Harry's hand but said nothing.

His thoughts irenic for the first time in several days, Harry let the sunshine wash away the lingering remains of the frantic pace he'd maintained, while working with his first private referral, before they'd departed. After several failed attempts (caused partly by the unusual conditions of the injuries) Harry had given it up as too dangerous to rush and had made enough of the potion to stabilize the patient during his absence. He hoped his concentration improved in the interim, or else he would have to refer the man to someone else.

Taking a calming breath to banish the last of his manic thoughts, Harry raised his face slightly to the sky. The late morning sun, filtered through the fronds of the palms, caressed his face and arms. It made him want to take off his clothes; he would bathe in its soothing regard while the teasing breeze frisked across his sun-warmed skin. Half closing his eyes, he could see it playing with the loose ends of his lover's hair as it tickled across his cheek when he kissed him with a heat to rival the sun; Severus' arms, wrapped tightly around him, the reins to hold his fears at bay.

Lost in that phantom kiss, his lips slightly parted, his cheeks flushed, Harry never saw the hunger in Severus' eyes caused by the sight of his lover glowing in the sun. He would take Harry in his arms and revel in the heat of his skin kissed by the Lamp of Phoebus as the first burning touch of Harry's lips thawed the coldness within him. He savoured it a moment before reality intruded, but still, tearing his eyes away from such a desired temptation became the most arduous thing he'd ever done.

A stumble on a patch of uneven walkway broke the kiss in Harry's mind. Looking around surreptitiously, he was grateful Severus seemed to be ignoring him; he could not imagine what his reaction would have been had he seen the things on Harry's mind. So he concentrated instead on the distractions of his surroundings. The lack of strong heat surprised him; he'd always thought the tropics would be a 'sweaty' hot, not a 'take-off-your-clothes-and-marinate-in-it' warm.

And he was confused. 

Severus had been distant the last few weeks, sleeping in the same bed when he wasn't out trolling the hallways but only sleeping, with insurmountable volumes of air between them. Their entwined hands--he knew not what to make of them but was determined to enjoy the closeness while offered. The only thing staying his anger over Severus' refusal to talk about their situation was that he knew the separateness was not done on purpose. Severus was not trying to punish him. Cerise had been right; Severus was just having trouble getting close again. There was a big difference to his mind; he would almost prefer the former, for the latter meant they were still broken.

Some time later, just as they could hear the soft pounding of the ocean against some unseen beach, they reached the end of the trail. Off to the left was a large cabin, bigger than the others they'd passed, with a small gate set in a fence effectively cordoning the area off to the casual stroller. There was a box near the latch; the gate was locked.

"I reckon we use the card Malia gave us?" Harry ventured quietly, checking their location against the map.

"I suppose so," Severus said as he fished in his back pocket and pulled out his key. He regretfully let go of Harry's hand and examined the card as well as the box. He slid the card, arrow first, into a slot in the front and a light changed from red to green. With a click, the gate swung open. "Useful thing, this," Severus mused, looking at the card. "I wonder if it can be adapted?"

Harry shrugged, unconcerned. Closing the gate behind them, they walked down the private stone path and up the stairs to the veranda, which ran around the entire cottage as far as they could see. Harry used his key in the same manner and opened the front door. They gasped when they saw the huge, open-beamed room. Plain but elegant, the walls of windows were open to the breezes on all sides. A sign by the front door asked them to remove their shoes while inside in deference to an island custom. They did so and left them on a tray for that purpose. They explored the rooms--living, dining, bedroom, and a bath almost as big as theirs at home.

Harry stepped out on the deep lanai at the back and stood at the rail. The cottage was set fairly close to the cliffs; he knew there were other cottages nearby, but their cabin was set as if all alone with a clear view to the ocean beyond. It was so quiet he could hear the light wind rushing past his ears, the ocean a dim sound as if far away. He found this curious; the one time he'd gone to the sea with the Dursleys, they could hear the sounds of the surf from far away, long before they'd reached it. And then he realised what was missing. There were no seabirds calling, not one. He didn't particularly miss them.

Severus followed and quietly stood behind Harry, hesitating and debating with himself. Surrendering to his impulses, he finally wrapped his long arms around Harry's waist, pleased they were almost the same height.

Harry suppressed a groan and leant back, pressing his body close and savouring the long awaited feel of his lover.

"Truly magnificent," Severus murmured, bending his head around to place light nips down Harry's proffered neck. 

"Yes, the view is spectacular," Harry said, his heart pounding as hard as the surf on the rocks below.

Severus looked up over Harry's shoulder. "Yes, I suppose it is at that; however, I wasn't referring to the view," Severus replied, his hands drifting down to rest on the front of Harry's hips. Mindful of their recent estrangement, he whispered, "If you're willing--"

Harry turned in his arms, sliding his hands to rest on Severus' shoulders and gave him light kiss. "Why wouldn't I be willing?" he asked.

"It's been a long while; I wouldn't want to take advantage," Severus said, subdued. He knew the remoteness had been solely his, but his honour would not allow him to be close again without at least giving Harry the chance to pull away, to be upset over it. "I have few rights the way I have distanced myself the last few weeks."

"You've lost no privileges," Harry said quietly, leaning in to kiss Severus again with one hand travelling to his nape to burrow in his hair. "I do understand the difference, you know. I was thinking on it earlier. We'll take it at your pace, in your time. If anyone has lost ground it would be me." He lowered his head, curling it on Severus' chest, the silk softly rough beneath his cheek. "I'll take you however I can. For as long as I can."

Severus had not realised; his actions could be viewed as a punishment? He was appalled. He closed his arms tighter around Harry, the inherent possessiveness beyond assumption. The thought sobered him. He looked out over Harry's shoulder, watching the relentless waves. _"Don't miss even one day with someone you love,"_ Poppy had told him. Such a fool. No, not one day. Not now.

He shifted. Harry raised his head, eyes questioning. Severus stopped thinking about it and took Harry's lips with his, sealing them in a deep kiss, pulling him closer. Harry responded with joyful abandon. Eventually, they wound up in the huge downy bed, a discarded pile of clothing to the side.

Straddling him, Severus randomly worked his way around Harry's body. Suckling a nipple to pebble hardness, laving the soft skin of his belly, dipping his tongue into his belly button, licking the hollow of his throat, nipping up his neck, his tongue tasted the skin framed by his lips.

Harry revelled in the sensations rippling through him. Severus so rarely took complete control like this; Harry tried to give him what he needed by staying still, to let him have his fill, but the privation inside him was too strong and fresh. Needing so much more, Harry was unable to stop his body from rising off the bed to eagerly meet his lover, helpless to halt the begging noises leaving his throat.

Severus had been afraid that this Harry would be different, would respond differently. He sighed his profound relief at Harry's mewling cries when he threw his head back on the pillow, at the involuntary movements beneath him, at Harry's hands desperately kneading his biceps--all of them the loving responses Severus had learned to read from Harry over the years.

When Severus claimed Harry's mouth, the kiss so achingly familiar, Harry knew he'd not been found wanting, that at least in this Severus accepted him again. He tried to roll Severus over, to reciprocate and show him how much he wanted him, but stopped with the unspoken demands in his lover's eyes. Relentless in a tender way, they brooked no argument from Harry; he lay back into the bed, compliant but confused.

Severus watched him carefully and when he saw the acceptance of his terms in Harry's compliance, he released a breath of air he'd not known he'd held.

He carefully settled between Harry's legs and hovered, his weight on his elbows as he slowly stroked Harry with his own body. Featherweight, slow, and sensuous, he heard Harry mumbling incoherencies and smiled that something so simple could make them both so needy. 

Harry remembered the rare times when Severus had spoiled him like this; he'd forgotten how incredibly sensitive it made him, how good the pinnacle had always been. He recalled the difficulty, the physical strength and absolute control Severus exerted to hold his body just so.

However, there was something about this that bothered him now. Something was missing and he struggled to think through the sensual haze. Control. Something about control. Severus controlling--himself? Them? Harry closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. The heat between their bodies made thinking almost impossible. He was about to surrender to the slow, powerful sensations when, in a flash of sudden insight, Harry realised that Severus had always unintentionally used this particular form of lovemaking to hold Harry separate, not close. To subjugate, not share. The pleasure received more a consolation prize than a gift of love.

Feeling too much like he had with Draco and his games of domination, Harry suddenly didn't want Severus to direct their passion anymore. He wanted, no, _they_ needed Severus to lose his rigid control, to surrender to _their_ pleasure--together, not apart. He could no longer capitulate to Severus' 'terms', for if he did, he could lose the very things causing this rift in the first place. He would not lose it all.

"No. I will not!" Harry exclaimed softly. Closing the short distance, his arms reached for Severus' waist, pulling him closer, disturbing the rhythm Severus had so carefully set. Imparting his own pace to keep the two of them in the right contact with each other, Harry's body movements brought them closer, tighter, more firmly together.

Severus' eyes flew open and he gazed at Harry, at first mildly annoyed with the interruption, but with the affectionate implacability in Harry's face, the unbanked fire and determination in his eyes, Severus saw, to his shame, what he'd really been doing. And what Harry was demanding from him, from them. There would be no compromise in this--they would meet as equals, or not at all. And this was where all the difference lay. For one moment he balanced precariously on the brink of indecision, and then he lowered his body and resolutely met Harry stroke for stroke. "No, we will not. Together then," he gasped. 

They now easily paced each other. It was as if their entire future rested on their ability to read each other, to keep moving towards fulfillment. Harry, in the instant before he stopped thinking at all and gave into the rapidly growing tempest within him, _knew_ this was the crux of the whole situation, what he needed to teach Severus and accept himself: they were partners and, while it might not ever be perfect, it would always be good.

The inevitable pressure within them, the sweet tightening of their bodies, the inarticulate cries of longing, all heralded their nearness. Harry raised his head off the pillow enough to grab Severus' mouth with his own, his tongue thrusting frantically in tempo with the movements of their bodies while his hands grasped Severus' straining arms to steady them.

Almost incoherent with his need for release, and spurred by Harry's zeal, Severus soon imploded, letting loose a sharp, wordless cry, his back arched back, arms extended. Their joyous release thickly coated Harry's chest and stomach.

His hands grasping Severus' taut hips, Harry let his head and upper body fall back down onto the pillows, relishing the aftershocks of his climax, his breath rasping.

Severus opened his eyes, his breathing harsh and demanding, and searched Harry's face for a clue, any sign that he was still with him. And there it was, in clear, green eyes--Harry's boundless love nestled within satisfaction and satiation.

Almost undone by the raw emotions shining in Severus' eyes, Harry's hand gently, tenderly, stroked his lover's face, while he whispered, "Ah, Sev--that was a bit of all right."

Answering an unnamed, inner need to seal their new understanding, Severus lowered his mouth to the commingled semen on Harry's chest and sucked up a mouthful with his tongue and lips. With care, he moved his body up and lowered his face to his lover's. Harry lifted his head to meet Severus half-way and, when their lips sealed together, their tongues lapping, they tasted together the tart bitterness of their mingled pleasure, consuming it with open acceptance.

It was almost enough, more than either of them dared hoped, yet less than each would ultimately need. For now, however, lost in the renewed feel of each other and oblivious to the sun's passage across the sky, they held each other close, mouths and bodies, together, confessing what their voices could not.

*****

_ho`oponopono_  
To correct or set right. To commingle spirits or essences to mend a relationship.

**** TBC ****


	41. Part IV 'A'ohe 'Ukulele Nana E 'Aki

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

+ + + +

_*Edited for FF.net--just a little--201 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.  
  
I apologise if this "feels" choppy, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

+ + + +

Part IV : Resolution  
**Chapter Forty One : 'A'ohe 'Ukulele Nana E 'Aki**

**16 July 2003** (Continued)

"Malia was right, everything is here in the guest book," Severus said from the lounge chair on the _lanai_.

Harry, sitting relaxed and sated in an identical chair right next to him, laughed, pointing out at the ocean. "Only you, and maybe Hermione, would be reading a book during a sunset like this one."

Severus looked up and, seeing the orange streaked sky, set the guest book aside on the table next to him and picked up his glass of juice (found in a small cooling box as promised). He chuckled ruefully, "You're right, but I find my _other hunger_ picking up and was seeing how we could acquire sustenance without leaving the comforts of this deck. While pleasant and certainly delicious, the inadequate stock of the fruit basket left for us in the dining nook upon our arrival has me suddenly desirous of something more substantial. And I'm not inclined to share our time with the other guests. Unless, of course, you wish to go public?"

Harry couldn't help it, he chortled. Severus raised his brows knowing Harry had caught the flying double entendres with the same skill he'd once exhibited snaring snitches. He chuckled to himself when Harry retorted, "Oh no, I _want_ privacy. What _does_ it say about feeding our _desires_?"

"It says plenty, but we'll worry about it later. You do well to remind me I'm wasting a perfect moment." He reached for Harry's hand at the same time it was offered; their fingers entwined, resting on Severus' thigh. Each were lost in their own thoughts as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon; they could almost see its movement. There was a sharp blaze of colour across sky and water, and then it was gone. Just like that. Harry's face held the wonder of a child.

"So beautiful," Severus mused softly. He watched his lover, trying to figure out which was more moving, the fading glory of the day's ending or the rare peace and stillness in Harry's normally mobile face. As he was trying to decide, Harry tore his eyes away from the twilight display to gaze back at him, his love shining naked in his eyes. Severus felt bits of him thawing under his warm regard like a frozen pond in the early spring sun.

Harry hitched a breath, a whisper of hope in it. Slowly, almost as if he was unsure if Severus was just talking about the sunset, he replied, "Yes, it was beautiful, wasn't it? And so fast." When Severus turned back to the fading light over the ocean, unable to answer the questions in the young eyes, Harry sighed and asked, "So, what's for dinner?"

Severus was about to reply when a bright light went on overhead, partially blinding eyes used to the semi-darkness. Startled, he let out an oath and jumped out of the chair, peering up at the offending lamps mounted to the wooden wall of the cottage. Yellow spots dancing in his vision, he exclaimed, "What the hell is that?"

Wary, he could see Harry swallowing his smile as he replied, "I expect they have the lights either on a timer or set to come on when it gets dark enough," he said blandly enough, rising from the lounge chair. The lanai was blazing bright, but the rooms inside were dark. "No candles here, Sev. We'll have to turn the other lights on and these off."

Severus grunted, feeling sheepish. He'd forgot the Muggles used electrical energy for most of their conveniences. "What a shame. Candles are so much more pleasant. We'll have to see what we can do to get some--this light is far too harsh." He picked up the guest book again. "If I recall, Malia said our valet would obtain the menu for us, and since there is one in here, I can only assume he stopped by sometime this afternoon while we were napping to insert it into the guest book." Or at least he hoped it had been while they slept; he couldn't remember if they'd kept the door to the bedroom closed or not. He made a note to tell their 'man' to make his presence known next time. "The menu is extensive and I confess I've not heard of half the things on it; perhaps you are aware?" He started to hand it over to Harry, opened to the appropriate place but found him gone. He heard him pad over to the sliding door and go in. A few moments later the lights outside went out.

"Better?" he heard from inside as a few softer lights went on in the other rooms.

"Yes, much. Thank you." He was about to go in when he noticed off to his far right a softly lit pool of water on the deck. He went over to investigate and found something they'd missed the first time they were out here. He snorted, not surprised. They'd not been exactly exploring the cot the last time they'd been out here. He walked over to the screen and called out, "Harry, did you know we have a small pool out here of our own?"

Harry came back outside a few doors down and paced to where Severus was standing. "It's a whirlpool. I think the Yanks call them a 'hot tub'. I've heard of them, but never seen one. Aunt Petunia was always onto Uncle Vernon to get her one for the backyard."

"A hot tub? What does it do?" It looked like an ordinary, if small, pool of water to him.

Settling on his haunches, Harry lifted the lid on a small box set into the wooden floor of the deck. Inside were some knobs. He fiddled with them and the water suddenly agitated. "There. I turned on the 'jets' and the heater. It says it will take an hour or so to warm up properly."

Severus bent down and placed his hand in the cool water. His hand was slapped away by the force of a current churning within. Noting the bubbles, he asked, "Air? It uses air to stir it up?"

"Air and water jets through some nozzles on the side. I remember seeing it in one of the brochures my aunt brought home. It's supposed to be good for sore muscles and joints. It's sort of like our bath at home only the water moves more."

"Intriguing," Severus muttered. "I wonder if we could do this to our bathing pool."

About to answer him that he didn't see why not, they both turned at a knock on the front door. Severus traversed the wide living room, feeling naked without his wand; the caution was deeply ingrained. He opened the door slightly and then stepped back as Malia and two companions swept into the room. 

The first, a solid man, a little shorter and older than Harry, hefted a huge tray with apparent ease. The other, a willowy girl, younger than Harry, carried a basket with a cloth over the top. Both had almost black hair, and similar strong features. The khaki shorts with white polo shirts, which constituted the uniforms of the hotel staff, set off their tanned skin and dark eyes. All three of them were barefoot and Severus noted the addition of three pairs of shoes on the tray by the door.

"Good evening to you. Kalani said you were sleeping this afternoon when he stopped by and when I didn't see you in the dining room, I took matters into my own hands and brought you both a light supper. I hope we haven't disturbed you." She turned her fascination away from Severus who was standing there clad only in a pair of long, loose athletic shorts riding low on his hips.

Severus caught her looking at him as if he were a tasty dish best served hot. He shook his head, perplexed by the attraction as much as he had been with the girl at the airline counter this morning. He was about to go see what they'd brought when he noticed Harry had seen her _look_. While his good-natured amusement at it did not surprise Severus, the fiercely possessive scowl that followed did, catching him off-guard. It made him feel unaccountably good.

He cleared his throat and looked away from Harry, filing the exchange away for later. "No, your interruption is timely. We were just looking over the in-room menu," he replied, somewhat taken aback by the invasion.

"Kalani, please set the tray up at the table," she said, watching Severus' reactions closely as the local man levitated the tray in front of him on his way past Severus into the back of the suite. 

Severus' brows were up as was his amusement. Harry laughed out loud. "Witches and Wizards in Paradise?"

Malia chuckled and motioned to the young woman holding the basket. Severus suddenly recognized her as the same woman from the front counter, but he couldn't remember her name had his life depended on it. She set the wicker hamper on the table and began unloading _Ever-Burn_ candles and other familiar items missing from this Muggle world, including three bottles of potions.

Severus felt a memory tug at him and he said as he examined the sun blocking potion, "You're Poppy's sister, aren't you?" He opened the top and the smell of coconuts and flowers filled his senses. He'd never heard of the ingredients hand-written in a neat hand on the back, but he assumed the local potions maker knew his or her business.

"Right in one," she laughed gaily. "I'm the youngest of four, Poppy the eldest. I came here in 1923 with my first Muggle husband and stayed when he passed nearly 30 years ago. I met my current husband while visiting Poppy a few years later and lived in both England and Hawai'i for many years. I had no difficulty pursuading him to move back once the war was over. Now we couldn't leave if we wanted to. There's a small community of us here but none on the other side. The solitude suits us and the locals, some of whom suspect, treat us with respect and affection."

With graceful hands she motioned towards the girl tucking the cover into the basket. "Kehealani and Kalani are my children from my second marriage. Both help me out when we get Wizarding guests, which is not often. I find it makes it easier. They are here to serve you; please make yourselves at home. Oh--and if you have any questions on those," she said gesturing at the potions he was still examining, one an insect repellant, the other a digestive, "let me know--my husband makes them."

Kalani came back in the room, his dark eyes twinkling. "The meal is laid out; I've placed warming and cooling spells, so you may enjoy it at your leisure. Will there be anything else?"

Severus noted Kahealani had disappeared. He turned his attention to Kalani, "Nothing I can think of for the moment, thank you." It had been a long time since he'd had to deal with servants and was not sure what the protocol was for the offspring of one's hostess. He mentally shrugged; good manners were always an appropriate fall-back in every situation.

Harry spoke up, "How are we to reach you should we need anything?"

Kalani answered him with a grin, his white teeth contrasting with his deeply tanned skin. "Call on the telephone. The staff knows we have been hired exclusively for your stay and will contact us. Otherwise, the fireplace in the bedroom is connected to the local Floo Network. If I'm in my rooms, I'll hear you. Same for Kahea', although she is here to see to your housekeeping services rather than your personal needs." He leaned in and whispered, "She's rather limited in her magic--not quite a squib but not fully trained either."

Severus nodded, "Thank you, we'll keep it in mind."

A memory stirring in his mind, Harry asked, "Malia, if you have a moment, I have a question. At the airport this morning, the girl at the counter said something about _Mahu_. What does that mean?"

Malia looked taken aback. "Was she friendly?" she asked.

Harry chuckled, glancing sideways at Severus. "She was _disappointed_."

"That's all right then," she said, and then muttered to herself, "I can sympathise." Harry, the only one to catch her words, snickered. She threw him a sharp glance, saying, "Well, I'll give you the short version. You're both _Mahu_. It's a Hawaiian word the locals use to refer to gay men and not always nicely." She shrugged. "It's all in _how_ it's said, although it seems to be changing back in usage to mean the same things it once did.

Severus raised his brows. "Oh? How was it originally intended?"

"This could take a while--you sure you want to hear it?" she asked.

"Please. Have a seat," Severus offered. 

"She can get pretty dry talking," Kalani said with good humour as he went over to the counter and opened a bottle of wine pouring four glasses. He returned with them and a glass of juice on a tray and, after passing them out, kept one for himself.

Malia sat in one of the chairs; the others followed suit including Kahealani, who'd just returned with a wad of bedding and towels which she'd stuffed into the basket. She took the glass of juice, the mystery of where she'd been solved. Mildly embarrassed that she had their bedclothes, Severus and Harry cautiously sipped the wine; both were pleased by the mellow taste even though neither was partial to white.

Malia continued, "All right--the longer short version. In ancient Hawai'i, the _Mahu_ had a respected place amongst Hawai'ians; especially among the _Ali'i_, or ruling class. They danced the part of the goddesses in the temples where women were _kapu_, or forbidden. They were frequently asked to name people's children and were the keepers of the culture from the _hula_ to the oral histories. They could get married to each other like everyone else."

She sipped her wine. "And then it all changed. When the white Christian missionaries came to Hawai'i in the early 19th century to "convert" the native peoples, they destroyed their way of life because they saw it as an obstacle to their mission values. They quickly discarded the Hawai'ian religious beliefs, language, oral history, and culture."

She sighed. "The _Mahu_ took it upon themselves to keep as much Hawai'ian culture alive as possible in secret--most importantly, the _hula_. When Hawai'ian culture was outlawed, they gathered clandestinely, their own way of life an anathema, and continued to celebrate and teach the time honoured Hawai'ian ways, keeping them alive and vibrant. Through them, the cultural history has been returned to the Hawai'ian people of today."

"How long did they remain hidden?" Severus asked, thinking of the similar history of Witches and Wizards.

"The cultural practice briefly resurfaced in the mid-1800's," her eyes took on a faraway cast, "but by the time I arrived here, most of the Hawai'ians, not just the _Mahu_, were underground; many of them reside here in Hana and the surrounding area. The older families even went so far as to change their names to hide their _Ali'i_ heritage. A goodly number of them work for this hotel and have for generations. There was not much tolerance; the Americans have a lot to answer for. I would say the current resurgence started in the late '60's to early '70's. By that time, most of the Hawai'i the tourists saw was watered-down with cute _haole_ girls in grass skirts and coconut bras."

She snorted, "The hip shaking _hula_ most tourists think of as Hawai'ian is actually from Tahiti. It's been a gradual change; there is nothing more lovely than the _hula kahiko_, or chanted _hula_, which is performed by both men and women, although the _hula 'auana_, or modern _hula_, is fun as well and amusing for the _keiki_ just learning it. Come to dinner tomorrow night. I'll make sure you have front row seats to see our presentation of both. The _Halau_ (or schools of dance) here have won many awards for their portrayal of both styles." She laughed, "We don't do 'tourist' _hula_ here."

Standing, she said, "I've kept you long enough. You know how to reach us. Your cottage is warded, by the way, against casual invasion; you'll have total privacy here despite your proximity to the beach path. Take care and I will see you on the morrow." She gave Harry a hug, speaking to him alone, "Take heart, Hana _is_ magic." When she embraced Severus, she whispered, "I am very relieved to see our sunshine is thawing your reserve--and your heart. Be well." And they were gone.

"That is one amazing lady," Harry said quietly.

"She certainly is." He threw Harry an amused glance. "Much like her sister, who is an entity unto herself."

"Who, Poppy? You haven't been apprenticed to her. She's more like a force of nature and a little scary," he grinned.

"All good women are a little scary," he chuckled. "Speaking of frightening, shall we go see what they brought us for dinner? I'm starving."

They went over to the table where Kalani had set them up two places with another opened bottle of the white wine chilling in a bucket. Severus removed the covers, and mouth-watering scents of grilled fish and fruit assailed them. A placard on the table said:

_Pan seared Ahi on a bed of Ipo with Taro Chips and Wasabi_  
_Local greens salad with Maui Onion House Dressing_  
_Grilled Ahi (rare) with Mango Salsa and sweet potatoes_  
_Haupia (cold)_

"I have no idea what any of this is, but it smells delicious," Harry remarked, forking a square of thinly cut fish. He bit into one and groaned. "It's almost raw, but it's sooo good."

Severus made similar noises as they tucked into the meal discovering that _Ipo_ was a salty type of feathery seaweed and the green pasty cube of Wasabi, when tested, made their eyes water and upper noses sting, but tasted delicious on the grilled fillets of tuna. They stopped only to make pleased remarks about the freshness and quality of the food. Everything was perfect down to the mild wine, which was vinted in Kahana Valley. The _haupia_ turned out to be a custard-like coconut pudding.

Finally replete, Harry leaned back in his chair. "Anything that good can't be good for me."

Severus smiled. "Even the portions were perfect--I'm not too full. I suspect _someone_ told Malia we needed fattening up."

"Yeah, she's always grousing we're too skinny isn't she? Well, with food like this, portly doesn't sound too bad after all. Think we can take some of the recipes back for the house-elves? Dumbledore would love the _haupia_!"

"Yes, he probably would." He eyed Harry. "Are you tired?"

"No, the nap this afternoon was enough to tide me over. Why?" he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

Severus shied away from the feelings Harry's look engendered and concentrated more on his apparent enthusiasm. "I was wondering if that tub of yours was ready." His hooded eyes spoke volumes.

"No other way to find out than to try it." Smiling, he took his glass of wine. "Come, let's see."

Severus rose from the table, his own wine in hand, and they made their way to the deck, turning the lights out as they went. The water was still, but hot, the lights around its edge bright in the dark. Harry knelt at the controls. "It's on a timer. Here, I'll turn it back on." As the water started churning lightly (he'd set it on low) he switched off the lights. The whole area glowed under a half moon. 

"There, that's much better." Harry took the glass from Severus' unresisting fingers and set it and his on a low table convenient to the pool and obviously there for drinks and such. He turned back to Severus and skimmed his hands lightly up his chest to lock loosely behind his head, which he pulled down, running his tongue lightly over his lips. Severus sighed, opening to Harry's kiss. He slid his hands around his waist, holding him close and arched into him. The kiss deepened and Harry's shorts eventually fell to the wood deck. He stepped out of them, kicking them behind him. 

Harry ran his hands down Severus' arms and lower. Their arms shifted, pulling them closer. Harry slid Severus' shorts down as well. Severus' chuckle rumbled through his chest, changing to a gasp as Harry pressed them together skin to skin. The ever-present soft breeze ruffled their hair and worked its way around them, caressing them like another hand.

Harry broke away and took Severus' hand. They both sat on the edge of the tub dangling their legs in the warm water. "The water is just right," he murmured.

"Yes, not too hot," he said just as quietly. Severus stepped onto the ledge and then into the deep water. He turned to Harry, running his hands up his thighs, when Harry stopped him, bending down, his hand on his chest. "Not tonight," he whispered. "Although, I admit it's my favorite, it's not what we--I need. I just need to be close to you--together with you. Do you feel it, too?" Severus nodded, understanding.

He jumped into the water. "Just like we were right before your party." His eyes bored into Severus'. "I could have stayed there forever." He couldn't keep his hands still; they travelled everywhere they could reach. "If I had nothing else, I would want that--the closeness we shared that evening." He kissed him softly, their arms loose around each other, moving and stroking, their skin slippery in the warm water.

He felt Severus husky voice through his skin. "It was like air. I needed it to breathe." He lightly traced Harry's lips with his tongue, tasting him. He broke away slightly, his lips teasing Harry's. "I still need it," he breathed into him, each word punctuated by a nip of his lips, "You. Still Need You. Like Air. Like life." He pulled him close, backing until his legs hit the ledge. Harry wrapped his legs around him, letting the water buoy him. Severus sat on the ledge, taking Harry with him as he leaned back against the sloped face of the pool, his neck cushioned by the soft edge. He pulled Harry's body close against him, their mouths mating, the kiss long and easy. Harry took the lead, showing Severus what he needed.

The need building, Severus groaned, the pleasure spiking from the base of his spine while Harry lightly suckled his way across the sensitive skin of Severus' throat. He raised his head off the side of the pool to capture Harry's mouth in a burning kiss. His hands twined in Harry's hair, holding him steady while he slow-danced their tongues. Their passion built rapidly.

Severus knew he was going to explode from the inside out; the warm swirling water caressed his sensitive skin. Harry threw his head back in abandon; Severus licked and nipped his way up Harry's neck, loving the way Harry's soft growls vibrated through his tongue. Without warning, Harry stiffened against him, crying out. It was the impetus Severus needed to follow him over the edge. And he did explode, the throbbing waves riding through him. Spent, they fell boneless, Severus against the edge of the pool cushioning Harry. The warm water surrounded them, kissing their skin.

They lay like this for quite some time. Harry leaned on Severus, his head resting on his shoulder unless it was raised for a kiss. Their hands made soft random strokes and neither wanted to move. They were startled when the timer went off and the water stopped churning. Harry made to get up, resigned, but Severus stopped him with his arms. "It's all right. Let it be. We're fine without it." With no argument in him, Harry went back to where he had been--safe and snug and _loved_ in Severus' arms.

The half moon shone on their tangled bodies in the warm still water. The breeze wrapped them into its soothing embrace, while they lay against each other joined at their hearts, their sated fires banked for the moment. The stars stood guard over them, giving them this sweet moment of togetherness.

****

_A'ohe 'ukulele nana e 'aki._  
Literally--Not even a flea to bite.

Perfect comfort.


	42. Part IV Ho'oko

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part IV : Resolution  
**Chapter Forty Two : Ho'oko**

**22 July 2003**

_'The tide turned the other night,'_ Severus thought as he and Harry scrambled over the shingle to get to the beach below the cottage. It had only taken them five days for the magic of Hana to make them feel they'd never lived anyplace else in any other way. Days of waking to the bright tropical sun kissing tangled, sleep-warm bodies. Mornings open to loving and exploring the region. Long, languid afternoons spent napping wrapped in each other's arms in the soporific heat, evenings of silent sunsets, and warm loving under the stars. Their isolation was such they could sleep on mattresses, which Kalani called futons, out on the lanai. 

It had been too long since they'd had nothing pressing to do, nothing to distract them from each other, and they discovered they had no problems filling the days where the biggest decision was whether to eat in the dining room or order in. There was no schedule to follow, no papers to grade or write, and no world to save. Harry and Severus finally had only themselves to worry about and they revelled in it.

The night after their arrival they'd eaten in the dining room. As promised, they had front row seats for the _Hula Ho'ike_ or _Hula_ performance. Malia promised them a special treat--the _Halau_ from _Ni'ihau_, a privately-owned island restricted to those of Hawai'ian descent, had come for a festival and had agreed to dance for the hotel and its guests. 

While Harry merely enjoyed it, Severus was plainly mesmerised by the graceful beauty and sensuous movements of both men and women as both styles were performed. Kalani performed with a group of other men, their _Hula_ energetic and lively, the motions both crude and graceful as they told a story about winning a girl by netting fish, the theme being that there was not much difference in technique. They both smiled indulgently with the rest of the audience when the children, or _Kieki_, performed their quite complex dances to the accompaniment of guitars and _Ukulele_; they were surprised when Kahealani danced a solo _hula 'auana_ afterwards, her slender form enhanced by the brightly coloured _mu'umu'u_ she wore.

One dance in particular, a _hula kahiko_, caught Severus' attention. An older woman knelt and young girl stood on the open area serving as a stage. Barefoot and dressed in brightly colored fabric with Raffia skirts, the woman carried what Malia later told him was an _Ipu_--a fat hollow gourd, open at the top, almost as long as her arms, and shaped like an hourglass. The girl carried two thick lengths of bamboo, one almost as tall as she was, one shorter, both fire heated to harden the shafts and remove the heart.

When all was ready, the upper beat was set on the _Ipu_ by pounding it on the floor, followed with complicated hand movements involving the butt of the hand, the palm, and the tips of the fingers, while the bamboo provided a _basso continuo_ counter beat when struck on a woven _Lauhala_ mat on the floor placed to protect the ends. The woman began a sing-song chant, the almost nasal tones telling the story of Pele (the goddess of the volcanoes). Her chanting was answered by a muted counter-chant off to the side sung by several voices coming closer with every tone.

Five tall brown-skinned women, clearly Hawai'ian, each easily twice Severus' size appeared out of the sidelines, their hands on their hips. Modestly clad, their loose fitting _Tapa_ tops covered by _Ti_ leaf skirts hand-tied and knotted at the hips, hung gracefully to muscled calves. Their dark shiny hair fell in thick waves to the backs of their knees, their heads garlanded by fronds of ferns and other leaves woven into thick, heavy _Haku lei_. Similar _lei_ adorned wrists and ankles. Chanting, they spun their story, dipping and whirling their proud bodies the way women should, the obviously heavy skirts swaying sensuously with their sinuous torsos and expressively graceful hands as their bare feet glided in deceptively simple steps. 

And when over, stunned silence reigned as the dancers left the open area before wild applause broke out from the guests and locals alike; the women of _Ni'ihau_ have no peers and to see them dance was a rare treat for all. Severus later told Malia it was like watching wind rippling through tall grass in a meadow. She was well pleased. 

Last night it had rained--they'd never felt the like before. Born in a mist of soft falling water carried from the mountains, it had them soaked faster than any deluge in Scotland. Warm and sultry, it ran down their skin in sensuous rivulets. Laughing like children, they'd wrestled on the lanai in the slippery water and made boisterous love drenched to the bone. It was wonderful. Afterwards they'd slept soundly in the bed because the futon was too cold and soggy.

_'Certainly more comfortable than falling asleep in the hot tub the other night. Although, that turned out rather nice, too.'_ He shook his head at the memory. Rousing Harry, their skin sensitive and shrivelled from the water. His body had been a mass of unexpected need a sleepy Harry was only too willing to sate. Waking slowly in the comfortable bed to his lover's sure touch, he still wasn't certain where he'd found the energy; perhaps the prolonged abstinence of their daily pleasures had inspired him. Or maybe it was just Hana.

His pleasant reverie broke his concentration enough that his feet slid out from under him and he skidded the rest of the way down to the beach. He landed hard, the shot of pain in his tail bone bringing tears to his eyes.

"Severus, are you all right?" Harry's voice floated over him. His eyes were closed against the flying sand of his landing.

"I could make a remark about the only thing aching is my dignity, but it would be a lie because my arse hurts like hell," he mumbled, opening one eye to see Harry bent over at the waist staring at him in concern. He closed it again when Harry started laughing merrily at him, wondering what he'd ever done wrong in a previous life. He said as much and Harry swatted him on the shoulder.

"Do you want help up or not?" he asked insolently. Severus stared up at his laughing face and grunted. He tried getting up, but it hurt too much.

"No, I think I'll just sit here a while. Like--the next two weeks," he groused, settling himself down in the hot sand. Shaking his head, Harry squatted in front of him in the sand and gently placed his hands on Severus' temples. "It doesn't hurt _there_," Severus said with some asperity.

"Really?" Harry said with irony. "I can fix _that_ if you want. Now pipedown and quit acting like an infant." Harry closed his eyes, concentrating.

"With such a scintillating bedside manner, it's no wonder all your patients are unconscious," Severus retorted. Harry opened his eyes with a mock glare and stuck his tongue out at him. He held Severus' steady gaze, one brow raised until Severus rolled his eyes, saying, "Oh, all right. I'll behave." Harry looked like he was about to add something, but stopped himself and once again closed his eyes. Just as quickly, he opened one of them and Severus chuckled softly. "I promise. Slytherin honour." Harry drew breath and Severus said quickly, "Don't go there, Potter." Harry snorted and firmed up his touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Severus realised he didn't feel anything other than a slight tingle where Harry's hands touched, but he stayed quiet all the same. And his bum still hurt.

After a moment, Harry opened his eyes and with a wicked gleam, said drolly, "You'll live." He grabbed Severus' hands and pulled. "Walk it off, old man."

"OW!" Severus yelled even as he came up, wobbling, the sand pouring out of his shorts back onto the beach. Harry, if anything, started laughing harder, his hands futilely trying to brush the sand off his bum. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, wrapping the shreds of his dignity around--"Oh, this is pointless!" he exclaimed, laughing, too. The first couple of steps were agony as his tailbone protested, then it got better, looser. And the sand still kept pouring in fits and starts out of his shorts, chafing his legs.

"Damn, Severus. What did you do--scoop up the whole beach on your way down?" Harry chortled.

"No, just half of it," he retorted, giving him a mock-glare. The water was pretty calm this morning with no riptide warnings, so he ran right into it and dove into a short wave, his howls covered by the surf. He stood up, dripping; the water was _very_ cold. "C'mon in Harry--the water's fine," he yelled, smiling evilly inside. Having no reason not to believe him, Harry dove in as well and came up sputtering.

"Why, you son of a wit--" His words were lost as Severus pulled them both under, stealing a quick kiss before they surfaced. Severus' hair was all over and he dipped his head back into the water to pull it off his face.

"You were saying--?" he directed at Harry, laughing.

Harry stood incredulous, just like he had for everything else the last few days. Severus was _playing_! He couldn't fathom where it all was coming from, certainly not from his normally stern, reproving Potions Master. First Severus had opened up to him physically, then there was the other night when he'd been so moved by the _hula_ performances, wrestling in the rain on the deck (and that had been quite fine) and now--this--teasing. Maybe Malia had the right of it, maybe Hana _was_ magic. In any event, it didn't matter, whether for the next few days or the rest of their lives, he would enjoy it while it lasted. 

He shook his head, seemingly pliant. Then with quick movements born of youth, he dove at Severus and knocked them both back in the water again. It went downhill from there on the deserted shore.

****

Kalani stood on the point, smiling, watching them frolic in the water like two otters. He knew his mother and Aunty would be pleased. 

He'd come to tell them he had a picnic lunch arranged for the afternoon, but he knew it could wait for another day. They had plenty of time. He turned and started back to the golf cart he had parked at the end of the walkway, his steps light and happy.

****

Harry's jumbled thrashing behind him woke Severus abruptly from a deep sleep. It was unfortunately ingrained from long experience: Harry moved in his nightmares, Severus woke up and soothed him back to sleep. He was sure Harry had his own routine for his as well, although he'd never asked. He rolled over on his side facing him, blinking awake. He propped his head in his hand, elbow sinking into the bed, as he watched a few moments to see which one he was dealing with. Each bad dream had its own unique cycle and resolution, although Harry had not been bothered by them, to his knowledge, for almost six months.

He wondered what had set him off tonight.

This one, however, was unfamiliar--new? Harry was sweating, his unruly hair plastered to his forehead, tossing his head in denial, his hands held out almost in supplication. He was mumbling, quiet but coherent. Severus bent down to catch his words, to try and determine what was bothering him; he couldn't help much if he didn't know what he was fighting. He heard them, listened to them again, and pulled back sharply, his heart pounding. 

He would be combatting himself. Harry's pleas had ripped through him, tearing his heart. "Severus, don't leave me. Please, don't go. I love you. Please, love me again. I'm so sorry. Don't walk away." Each cycle the words were different, but the meaning stayed the same.

_'My churlishness has become the thing of Harry's nightmares?'_ he asked himself, ashamed he'd let it go so far. _'Maybe I have been punishing him and I wasn't aware I was?'_

"Harry? Shhh love, it's all right, I'm here. I haven't gone anywhere. I'm staying. Hush. Sleep. I'll be here when you wake--" Over and over he repeated these and other soothing words, punctuating them with soft touches of his lips against Harry's cheeks, his mouth, his eyes, meaning every one of them. He wasn't going anywhere; he knew it now. He would stay and work it out. _'I suppose I should listen to myself more often. I knew I was staying the moment I took his hand on the walk to the cottage our first day here.'_

Harry slowly went back to good sleep without waking, a small smile on his lips as Severus folded him in his arms and held him through the rest of the long night, awake and thinking. Harry snuggled closer and sighed, content, his body finally loose in dreamless sleep.

He pushed the hair off of Harry's forehead, exposing the scar. Pale, almost gone now, he recalled the times it had blazed an ugly red from Voldemort's wrath; he saw once again the grim determination from the tired green eyes below it. Eyes so old at times they carried the fate of a world in them. _'So young to have done so much,'_ he mused, his hand gentling his face.

His most secret memory, hidden away, rose unbidden to his mind--the real reason he refused _Legilimens_ with Harry. Sitting exhausted at Harry's bedside after the final battle, willing him awake, terrified deep within him that he was gone, never to return, never to know how he, Severus, felt about him. Afraid the only time he would ever hold Harry was when he'd carried him into the castle up to the infirmary almost dead from his last battle. He eschewed the offered help, unwilling to give up the privilege of cradling him in his arms. Sitting still for hours holding his hand, willing to give everything he had, even his life, if Harry would just be all right.

Dumbledore's words tripped through his thoughts, "_You've paid for him with your very soul_." And Albus would know, he'd sat vigil with him through the longest four days of his life. He'd tried to stop him from leaving when it was obvious Harry was going to be all right, his heart too full of unaccustomed joy, his head telling him they had no chance together, especially with Draco in the picture. He'd tried to subdue the utter hopelessness he'd wallowed in for days afterwards until finally he'd buried his heart so deep, he couldn't feel it anymore.

He felt it now.

_"Sometimes, Severus, all that holds our fractured pieces together is our ability to reach beyond ourselves, to touch the ones we love."_ Cerise's words now had special meaning. _"How do you expect to resolve this if you won't even talk about it with him, and failing that, taking what comfort you can from each other?"_ No, he had to be the one to make the first step in this; given Harry's subconscious fears, he had obviously not expressed his feelings as well as he should.

_"Don't miss even one day with someone you love."_ Poppy's words came back to him, and he was silently amused and grateful that it had taken an old woman to finally sink some sense into his head. He thought to his activities over the last year, the risks he took with other members of the Order--risks he'd never told Harry about. 

_'I had thought the issue was trust. Maybe it was, but can I truly expect honesty from Harry when my own example has been just as damning? I have misused his trust in me, as much as he has mine. We're a right pair of idiots, we are.'_ He knew they needed to talk and was suddenly aware of how difficult it must have been for Harry to finally confront his own truths to tell Severus what he'd done; if Harry had felt half the trepidation Severus was now experiencing, it would have been daunting indeed, although he had to admit, his motives were much older, deeper than Harry's.

Resolved, he finally fell in a deep sleep near dawn.

****

Harry woke before him and, unable to rouse Severus for the first time since they'd arrived, he went out onto the lanai to enjoy a Muggle novel and the warm sun. He felt refreshed this morning, eager and hopeful. While he didn't remember the dream, he did recall going to bed uneasy. He shrugged, it was a flawless day and he intended to enjoy it.

Severus woke near noon, stretching luxuriously, loose and happy. After going to the loo, he padded out onto the lanai, clad only in his swim trunks. He made a shadow on Harry's book as he bent down to kiss him good morning. Looking up, Harry saw something different in his eyes and his heart filled with joy. "Good morning, slug-a-bed! Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough. I woke up in the middle of the night; took me a while to fall back asleep. Nothing serious, just old habits you know." Harry did know. Severus had always been a notorious insomniac.

"You should have awakened me, I could have got you back to sleep." He grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

Severus laughed easily. "I'm sure you could have. But why make both of us miserable."

"If that's misery, may I never be happy again." They both laughed. "Any plans for today?" Harry asked, putting the book aside.

Harry ran his hand up Severus' thigh, feeling his muscles quiver as Severus said, "I _was_ thinking of a swim and, after lunch, looking up Kalani to arrange a picnic for us tomorrow, if that's all right with you." 

Harry had moved so Severus was standing between his legs. He scooted forward to the edge of the chair and held his lower body close. His mouth lapped wet kisses on Severus' abdomen while his hands trailed lightly up the backs of his calves and thighs, the fingers sliding up under the edge of his swim trunks to continue their stroking along his cheeks and hips. Severus closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensations rippling through him under Harry's hands and mouth, his hands sliding through Harry's hair.

"Well,--" Nipping Severus' flesh.   
"--the--" Licking his skin.   
"--eating--" Tasting the salty sweetness.   
"--part--" Tugging hands.  
"--sounds--" Nibbling lips.   
"--good." Sliding hands. 

Severus' trunks hit the deck, his plans forgot.

****

Their interlude on the deck had moved pleasantly to their bed for some of the afternoon, while Severus tortured Harry with the _~Cough-Twice~_ from _The Book_ using his favourite clover-flavoured lube he regularly made. Afterwards, while a thoroughly satiated Harry napped, a somewhat smug Severus regretfully left his side to go find Kalani.

After explaining to him what he needed so that he and Harry would not be disturbed for the entire next day, maybe more, Kalani told him he would take care of all the arrangements for food and such. Satisfied Kalani knew what he wanted, he'd returned to nap himself, Harry none the wiser. 

They'd had a sumptuous dinner at the hotel with Malia and her husband, Joseph, a former Auror now retired, who was a quiet man. Growing herbs and making locally extracted potions for a hobby, he and Severus had hit their stride right off, the discussion centering on Joseph's potions and local herblore. Malia and Harry talked little, satisfied with watching the rare animation from their partners as they excitedly exchanged ideas and methods. They'd left late to go back to their cottage where they both fell in the bed together, almost asleep before they were horizontal.

****

Ho'oko  
_hoh oh KOH'_  
To commit; to fulfill, to carry out, to accomplish--the single instant in any action, where all aspirations and dreams turn into a reality with the heartfelt _commitment_ to actually do it.


	43. Part IV Ho'i Hou i Ka Mole

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part IV : Resolution  
**Chapter Forty Three : Ho'i Hou i Ka Mole**

_Aloha mai no, aloha aku; o ka huhu ka mea e ola 'ole ai._

**23 July 2003**

This morning, Severus woke first. Antsy, he rose from their bed knowing today was _it_. He smiled ruefully to himself--such a melodramatic beginning for something so simple--the day he cleared the air with Harry. His stomach clenched in knots when he thought of the possible consequences; Harry would either stay in understanding, or leave in anger, or worse, put him through the same hell he'd put Harry through the last few weeks.

He found it easy to sit back and look at his own decision to stay and work it out, now that he'd made it, but he also knew this was just one more thing he'd not communicated to Harry. He briefly debated telling him first, but it felt so much like a bribe to him. He could see it now, _'Harry, I love you. I've decided to stay and grace you with my presence after making you miserable. Oh and by the by, I fucked up as badly if not worse than you did. Forgive me?'_ He snorted--yes, that would go over very well, indeed. Afraid of what Harry's decision might be, probably as much as Harry had feared his, he knew there was much he'd not told him and despite the strange situation they found themselves in, he also knew Harry valued honesty as much as he did.

He needed to prepare. What he had to say would mean dredging up old memories, old feelings best forgot, something he had assiduously avoided not just with Harry, but with himself as well. After dressing quietly and comfortably, he went out on the _lanai_ and soon decided it was too close, too crowded, so he set off towards the ocean and sat on the rocks at the point, thinking and watching the sun rise, the morning breeze lifting his unbound hair. It didn't take long for him to clear his mind and find some peace for however short a time it might be.

He was startled when Harry came up and sat next to him.

"That bad, huh?" Harry asked putting a hand on his knee.

Severus cleared his throat, stealing a quick glance at the neutral face next to him and looked out at the water below them. "You're not the only one who prefers to make their confessions outdoors." He gave a little huff of laughter and looked Harry in the eyes. "There is so much to tell you, so much to confess myself--Albus has been after me as well to come clean." He chuckled. "He's been calling me a fool for years." 

Harry held his eyes, his voice quiet but intense. "Tell me, Severus. Tell me what's so horrible you think it could make me stop loving you. Please. I want no more doubts, no secrets anymore. I just want to love you, nothing more and nothing less." Harry leant over and kissed his cheek in encouragement.

"I hope you don't regret those words," he whispered as he took a deep breath and released it, willing the ghoul in his stomach to go away. "Where to begin?" He paused, looking out over the pounding surf. He idly noticed the tide was out and there were hundreds of crabs scuttling all over the beach, their hiding places uncovered by the receding water. He knew how they felt--unsafe, exposed to the elements and the predatory children, just arrived, net bags at their sides, sweeping the sand for their lunch; he mentally admonished himself to quit stalling.

"Do you remember Remus' note about The Veil?" At Harry's nod, he continued, "Moody, Remus, and I each entered The Veil several times looking for Sirius. I found a Dark Arts potion that--changed us--allowed us a limited time inside to search."

Intrigued, Harry asked, "How did it change you?"

"Basically, we died a living death. We used it in conjunction with a spell that acted like a charmed 'rope', if you will. Only one could go through The Veil at a time, literally, with the other two outside to 'haul' the searcher back if he couldn't make it back in time. In the end, only Remus and I could enter with few side-effects. The potion affected Moody's sight too much." He stared at the ocean and sighed.

"What was it like?" Harry asked quietly.

Severus replied in a dead, faraway voice. "The Veil is Death. Dark, horrible, full of spirits unable or unwilling to come back. They can be, you know. Brought back. If they want and aren't too deep. Too deep and they are in the Hinterlands. They're afraid. It tastes like copper and iron--their fear. It smells stale, like old rotted corpses. It whispers songs of sleep overlaid with the sibilant voices of the damned. Mortals cannot hear them but those who walk with death can. They appear, right on the edge of sight. Like gremlins, they disappear when you look at them. No love, no hate, no passion, no sorrow. A flat place of restless stagnation."

He swallowed hard, his eyes somewhere else. Harry had to lean in to catch his soft, slow reverie. "You can't stop moving or they can catch you, can stop you. That's what happened to me. The last time I went in. I saw him. Saw Sirius. I was so close. I called out to him and kept following. And when I finally caught up, it wasn't him. Sirius had already gone on. But his shadow remained, captured and bound by the grieving memories of those left behind who could not let him go. Separate and miserable, I broke the chains binding it, releasing it to join the rest of him. Sirius was finally completely free.

He paused, his eyes sad as he whispered, "Sirius," as if he'd lost his dearest friend. He shook his head, shedding a dream. He went on more normally, "By the time I was done, I'd gone too deep and didn't come back in time. Remus and Moody hauled my body back, but could do nothing--I--in a way--died. With much personal risk of his own, Albus awakened me, something I assure you I do not ever want to do again." He shuddered at the memory of the Headmaster's fury with them all. "It was not--pleasant--quite painful actually, and weakened us both for a few days."

"When did this happen?" Harry was incredulous. "How could I not have known?"

"It was during one of your _absent_ periods, one where you were gone for almost two weeks, supposedly to the Weasleys last summer. The one where I received an Owl from Molly wondering how you were doing, she hadn't heard from you in so long. It was over before you even came back."

Harry was angry now, jumping down from his seat to pace on the rocks below. He remembered the time Severus spoke of. "I'd been with Bill and his family. A Weasley all right, just the wrong one. And you never said a word to me about it? You risked yourself that way and never even said goodbye? Never let me know you might not be back? And then yelled at me for not telling you where _**I**_ was?" He strode across the shingle, furious, and threw himself against another rock, his head thrown back, insult in every line in his body.

Severus debated whether to go to him or not and decided to stay put, to let Harry work it out. He'd said his piece. Closing his eyes, he waited for the next bit to come; it would, so he let the early morning sun calm him.

"Why?" The voice came from next to him, startling, still angry with its clipped tones. He'd not sensed Harry coming back. "Why did you go after him? I know I'd often thought about it, but I decided in the end to leave it be and accept that Sirius was gone. Knowing how much you hated my Godfather, I am having difficulty understanding 'why' _you_ went--the others are a bit easier."

Severus looked out over the ocean, the children and the crabs now gone, the tide now coming in. Why indeed? Not an easy question to answer. He hesitated, choosing his words with care. "Because, in a former life, Sirius Black was my best friend."

Harry stared. "Surely you're joking. It's no secret how much the two of you hated each other--you would have killed each other if you could," he said heatedly.

Severus chuckled grimly. "No, I assure you I am not--I am quite serious, no pun intended. He always did hate that. Probably why I said it so much, too."

"How is this possible?" Harry asked, still standing, his shadow covering Severus.

"I'll tell you nothing if you don't sit down," Severus said sharply. "You're making my neck ache looking up at you."

Harry sat down cross-legged on the rough rocks a few feet away from him. The distancing was not lost on Severus. "The Houses at Hogwarts divide more than students, they divide whole families. Old families. Of course, the two fiercest rivals were, are, the Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses. The Gryffindor House at any time was sure to hold Weasleys, Potters, Longbottoms, and Bells, among others. The Slytherin House had its share of Malfoys, Snapes, Crabbes, Goyles, Parkinsons--and Blacks."

He paused, silently encouraging Harry's dawning comprehension. "Yes, Blacks. You saw the tapestry--the families intermarried; Arthur Weasley, for example, was directly related to Sirius. Currently, I have second cousins who are Malfoys and Goyles; my unlamented older brother, who died when I was a child, married a Rosier, although there was no issue. The Snape line is distantly tied to the Blacks, although so far in the past it rarely shows up in the contemporary family trees. Be that as it may, the marriages were made to keep the bloodlines clean and to form beneficial alliances between like-minded families, not out of affection. Even your father, a pureblood, was born out of an arranged marriage."

"What about Albus?"

"Ah, a very old family, the Dumbledore's are another story but one he will have to tell you, not I. Suffice it to say, for the sake of this conversation, the great houses tended to band together based on inclination. The Gryffindors tended to be Aurors and high in the Ministry. The Slytherins were the Robber Barons into trade and commerce. When the Slytherin families bred with the shadier Ravenclaws, as was my family's inclination, they created the Dark Arts scholars Voldemort prized; Carlotta comes from such a family. There was a reason Riddle went after the Slytherin families first. Whether by fame or fortune or glory, they could be bought. Rather pathetic, actually."

He cleared his throat, suddenly parched. "My mother was a Pritchard and that odious toad, Graham, is a distant cousin. Mrs. Black was a Black, albeit from a different line four generations back. Our mothers, being former roommates at Hogwarts and of like mind, were close friends despite the differences in their stations. Sirius was born two months before me. Our friendship was encouraged by my father, who had aspirations of his own. The Blacks were powerful and wealthy with a long history of dark wizards, while my family was, well, older--no less prestigious, but certainly not as well off. I knew Sirius all my life. We were close, told each other our childish secrets as we grew up. Laughed at our families and the other families we met when our mothers 'went calling'. We had a jolly time."

Harry sat silent, drinking all this in. "Why did he never mention it to me?"

"Why would he? To do so would be to recall his own 'shame'. Sirius was many things--handsome, funny, clever--things I was not--but he was weak." Harry drew breath to protest; Severus held up his hand. "Harry, if we are to have an _honest_ discussion here, you are going to have to suspend some of your preconceived sensibilities and really listen to some things you are not going to want to hear, not only about Sirius and others, but also about your own family. You knew the man for all of three years. I knew him for thirty eight. If you cannot hear the truth, then I stop now and save myself the effort and humiliation."

It was Harry's turn to look out at the ocean. "The truth as you know it?"

"The truth as others know it, too. If you don't believe me, Albus can confirm most of it. He was there. I won't lie about myself either; I did some incredibly stupid things as well." He smiled in memory, then frowned. "And if that is still not enough, I would be willing, reluctantly I might add, to suspend our agreement to not use _Legilimens_ and allow you direct access to my memories."

Harry shuddered and winced, yet was awed at the trust Severus was once again placing in him. "No. Even if you were lying through your teeth, and I'm not saying you are, I would never subject us to that again." He looked thoughtful. "All right, I can accept your truth, if you can accept I'm allowed to be angry and I'm not expected to like what I hear."

Severus nodded. "That seems fair." He thought a moment, and murmured, "So much history to sort through." His eyes glazed at the inner pictures. Almost to himself, he continued, "We were inseparable. We shared tutors, half our lessons were at his house, half at mine. Our parents were fast friends." He shook his head sadly. "And then, we went to Hogwarts. It fell apart there." His voice trailed off in memory. Without warning, he stood and dusted himself off. "Harry let's go back to the cottage. I'm sore from this rock and thirsty. This is going to take a while and I, for one, would at least like to be comfortable physically while I make an ass out of myself." Harry nodded, grunting his agreement as he stiffly rose from his perch on the hard stone.

They walked back in silence, apart. Severus knew the separation was due to Harry respecting his privacy rather than any active ire he held; it gave him some hope. Once back inside, Severus set out two tall tumblers of water heaped with ice. He carried them into the cottage's living room, placed them on the table and sat in one of the chairs. The solitude was not lost on Harry, who took the couch.

Severus took a large drink of water before continuing. His eyes seemed far away as he remembered the scene. They'd been so young. "Sirius walked up to the sorting hat cocky and assured and walked away crushed and humiliated. It had sorted him into Gryffindor. It almost sorted me there as well." 

Harry sat forward, dying to ask but kept quiet. 

"His mother, a right bitch--her painting never did do her real self justice--sent no less than three Howlers, one to Sirius, one to Dumbledore, and one to the Board of Governors; she wanted him sorted back in Slytherin. Dumbledore wouldn't budge and so Sirius was a Gryffindor. I received my orders from home almost immediately; I was to have nothing to do with him anymore. Of course, I ignored them and so the first part of the term we were still friends although we rarely had any opportunity to see each other except during classes. He was my potions partner, which caused quite a stir. When I went home for Christmas that year, my parents were displeased with the reports of our continued friendship, and I was beaten for it." 

He stared into space. "But Sirius never knew about that. When I came back from the Holidays, he acted as if I didn't exist. His parents wouldn't let him come home and so he had spent the Holidays with the Potters. He was never the same to me again." He shook away the betrayal he still felt at Sirius' actions when he'd come back from that Holiday. He turned his full regard to Harry, and while gratified by the shock on his face, he knew it was just the beginning. He sighed.

"Your father baited me, ridiculed me, and defiled me after that and I never knew why. He got his ammunition from his new best friend, Sirius Black, who told him all of my childhood secrets, told him where my soft spots were. Not on purpose, I don't think, but the enmity between your father and I was well established by that point and he was very good at finding out what he needed to know to get what he wanted. It's what made him an excellent Auror." He took a sip of the water.

"It would be like Hermione or Ron suddenly tossing you over for Draco. I was devastated. From that Christmas on, I became 'Snivellus' to both Sirius and James and their little gang. Remus, new to the school after that holiday, rarely participated, but he had his own demons and never interfered; he was too grateful to be included. Same for Peter. Your mother didn't come along until later, but I had no quarrel with her, although I resented her misplaced pity thinking she was showing off for your father. I was not kind to her."

Severus watched the almost predictable emotions flitting across Harry's expressive face. When he'd regained his equilibrium, Severus continued, "At the time it started, I truly had no idea why they did it; I was a fairly self-contained, fairly quiet Slytherin, although I reluctantly admit, I was prone to showing off for the teachers and thought myself above the dullards around me. Later, though, I earned their enmity, as revenge begat revenge, each year a little nastier."

Harry interrupted him. "What about your friends in Slytherin? Didn't they help?"

"Slytherins don't generally have friends as the Gryffindors do. They have rivals, alliances, and lovers. I had only one real friend in Slytherin, an older boy, Mecadia, Lucius' brother. Lucius was a sixth year when I started, Mecadia a fourth year. And since we're on the subject, Narcissa was one year ahead of me. My first four years were all right, it was my last three that were hell."

"Surely--" Harry began.

"Think on the students you knew. Were any of them friends like you, Ron, and Hermione? I think you will be challenged to find even one pair of friends."

Harry said slowly, "You're right. I'd never really thought about it, but they always stuck together."

Severus snorted with derision. "Oh yes, appearances are important to my Slytherins. However, what goes on in the common room is another story and is, even now, a constant source of amusement to me if not frustration." He smiled wickedly, irrelevantly thinking of the time Draco removed Pansy's mouth. Not so unusual as one might think.

He cleared his throat and with it the odd memory. "My trials began the summer I turned 15. Three things happened. Mecadia left Hogwarts, I found out with a neighbor's groomsman that I didn't like girls, and I was pledged to Flora Bones, a Slytherin one year behind me, Pansy's mother. I was a pariah that summer because I refused to sign the contract. I was at the age of consent and absolutely would not promise to marry that sow. Ugly, bad manners, and female. It was the stuff of nightmares." He chuckled. "Of course I didn't tell them the latter part, but after much _discussion_ the offer was withdrawn and, I thought, none the wiser."

He gulped down some more water. "One would think that if one was turned down for marriage, one would remain quiet about it, but not Flora. She wailed and complained and whined the whole Fall. Everyone knew I had rejected her and while I am sure I had the unanimous approval of every male in the House, they couldn't tell me that. Mecadia wrote me and told me to hold fast, that sleeping with her would be enough to shrivel any man." His face softened in fond memory as it always did when he thought of his friend and former lover.

Recalling himself, he ignored the unspoken questions in Harry's eyes and continued, "No, I was reviled because I passed up her dowry, which was quite handsome but not enough for me to occupy the same common room with her, let alone a bed."

Harry laughed, he couldn't help it. "Her daughter was no prize either."

"True. But that was not the worst. That came over Christmas when my father handed me the marriage contract for Narcissa Black. Did you ever meet her?"

"I saw her a few times at the train but that's it. Draco had been 'disowned' by the time we got together and did not speak much of his family."

"Actually, she died during the time you were together, I'm surprised he didn't tell you. She died two months before the last battle."

Harry was stunned. "Draco never said a word, never even looked grieved."

"He wouldn't have--he hated her. So did I. She was a beautiful woman, petite, blonde, and vain. I was the last son, I was expected to marry, so I signed, assuming I could do what my other classmates did--procreate with one and then keep other lovers on the side. At least she was attractive." He sighed and irony laced his next words. "She refused, citing my sexual preferences among other 'things'. By the end of the holidays, when she proved intractable, my father disowned me, broke my wand, and threw me out of the house with only my school trunk and the clothes on my back."

He looked out the window. "He didn't get Percival, my eagle owl, though. I sent a message to Mecadia. He came for me and snuck me back to Hogwarts where Dumbledore had already received word that I was _persona non grata_. Albus took me to Ollivander to get another wand and then put me up for the rest of the Holidays. When everyone returned to school, it was common knowledge--not only that Narcissa had rejected my family's suit, but why. No one was kind about it. I had little money, few clothes, some books, a gifted wand, and me. There was a reason my clothes were in such disrepair in the spring; I owned very few and students were not permitted to Transfigure clothing."

Harry thought back to the memory in the Pensieve in double horror; his father had known and had done it anyway. "What an arsehole," Harry muttered.

Severus snorted, surprised at the comment but acknowledged, "Well, yes I was. I suppose I deserved the comeuppance, so to speak, after I locked James and Sirius out of the Quidditch locker rooms the week before, starkers and without their wands."

Harry laughed, saying they'd done the same to Draco in sixth year. He finished with, "And I _was_ referring to my father, not you. What did they do?"

"They walked back, naked. Proud of it, too. Irritated the hell out of me." Severus shook his head, "I was so jealous of their _presence_. Only he or Sirius could have got away with it."

"That was pretty cheeky of them," Harry quipped. Severus laughed appreciatively. "But even if they weren't at ease with it, it still does not excuse what they did to you in front of the whole school. You at least gave them a chance to come back, none the wiser. I still say my father was an arsehole."

"I was never sure if James truly intended it to go that far. Sirius did, though. He was the one who egged him on. By this time James was smitten with Lily although they weren't dating yet. He'd started cleaning up his act, was almost nice because of her. Sirius was beside himself. He may have been James' best friend and would never have taken his jealousy out on him, but the closer your parents became, the nastier Sirius was to me. You know what happened sixth year; by seventh year it was intolerable." 

Severus drew a deep breath, trying to draw the courage to go on, to tell the hard part--what came next. Realising a delay would help none, he continued softly, "And what happened in the Spring Break of my Fifth Year, did nothing to help my reputation."

He was swamped with the memories, ones he had tried very hard over the years to forget. He looked down at his hands, noting the veins on the back, the strong tendons, the short clipped nails, the short scars that looked so innocent and ran so deep. He turned them over and looked at the smoother palms, the length of his calloused fingers. He started massaging the one hand with the other--a reflection of his anxiety. 

A new hand came over and covered his--lean, strong, supple fingers not quite as long as his, but just as controlled. The fingers ran in and out the length of his fingers. His whole world focused for one moment on the two hands, the one stroking and loving the other. The other hand pushed aside the sheet of hair covering his face, moving it aside long enough to trail tender fingertips down his cheek. Such a small gesture but it was enough.

Harry leaned in even closer when Severus quietly spoke. "The day before the spring break, I was summoned to the Headmaster's office. Lucius was there with the completed and sealed paperwork; I was his ward."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, his hands stilled but remained.

"My reaction, exactly. I couldn't fathom why he'd done it, with his family's knowledge, if not approval. He said it was his way of thanking me for clearing his way to getting Narcissa and her huge dowry, and maybe when he first thought of it, that was all it was, but I soon learned when I went home with him for the spring holidays the next day that he wanted more than that. He wanted--me." Harry's hand tightened.

His voice got quieter, softer. "You've met Lucius. Such an exquisite man, in an icy way. He said he fancied me and since he'd heard _why_ Narcissa had turned me down--well, what can I say? He was powerful. I was only 15; he seduced me that night and held me captive for the rest of my schooling and beyond."

Severus could see Harry's horror--he'd been afraid he would feel this way. While it was obvious he and Lucius had known each other, only Albus, Cerise, Poppy, and a few select Death Eaters had known of his 'relationship' with Malfoy. Harry's hands pulled away leaving Severus' cold. Just as quickly they returned along with a dawning comprehension on Harry's face. "Is he the one who gave you those scars?" His one hand joined the other and they both held Severus' tight.

"Some of them, but not all, and not at first," Severus whispered, his relief almost choking him. "The first few months were--wonderful. He was everything a person could want in a lover--gentle and he seemed to cherish me. I was unprepared, therefore, when on my sixteenth birthday, he took me to Voldemort and dedicated me to his service. I got the Dark Mark that night as much to please Lucius as anything else. Such an idiot. I found out that night, afterwards, he'd already tired of me; I was too old--he likes them _much_ younger. When he gave me to Voldemort's service, he really DID give me to his _service_."

His face filled with old terrors, he tore his hands away and got up from the chair, the memories crowding him, suffocating--he had to get out. He went out to the lanai and leaned on the rail, sucking up lungfuls of the clean air, dizzy from all the impressions he'd suppressed over the years, which were threatening to violently come out. His stomach heaved and he sternly controlled it.

Harry followed and came up next to him putting his arm around his waist. Severus flinched involuntarily, still needing air. He was sorry when Harry withdrew his arm, understanding and not wanting to distress him, but could see the implied rejection hurt a little.

His head was full. _Being held down. Taken by force. Whipped when he couldn't go on. The summer a nightmare. The summons during the school years. The humiliation. The pain and the blood. Crawling into his bed at dawn, trusting no one to help, no one to help him in any event._ Except Dumbledore.

He told Harry all this, his words as broken as his memories. Harry stood before him; his hands fast on Severus' but unnoticed. "I only remember bits and pieces now, and only in my dreams. I would have died, I think, had it not been for Albus. He found me one night, unconscious, in the corridor outside the Slytherin common room door. It was the month I got the stripes on my back. He was upset and took me to Poppy, who healed them as best she could but they were deep and old and Dark. He wanted me to press charges against Lucius--I gave him information on Voldemort. He saw the advantage. I was almost 17 and I was his; his kindness was my undoing. I could spy on them. Make them pay. It was my revenge."

He couldn't look at Harry, afraid he'd see pity. He would die if Harry pitied him.

Harry placed both hands on his cheeks and turned his face to him. All Severus saw was his love and compassion. He broke down. Harry wrapped him in his arms, unconcerned Severus did not hold him back. He took his hand and led him to the couch. Laying down, he pulled Severus to him; for once he was the strong one, the one who held his lover while he purged himself of his ugly memories. His hand stroked his hair, nothing else; nothing more was needed.

Much later Severus resumed his story in a low, hoarse voice. "I spied for Dumbledore until just before the beginning of your sixth year. I seduced Lucius because I could get information from him. I knew how, knew what he liked, what he couldn't get from his _boys_. I became a part of the inner circle; Lucius hated me for it, but it didn't stop him from fucking me." He glanced away from the moue of distaste on Harry's face as he obviously envisioned the two of them together.

He held up his wrist, turning it so the light caught his faint scars there. "The night you healed me, I had returned from what turned out to be my final mission. Deaf to my assurances of loyalty, Voldemort gave me as a present to Lucius, who was a little more vicious than normal. They _knew_; somehow they'd found out I was working for the Order--Lucius was determined to cripple, if not kill me and would have succeeded had it not been for you and your burgeoning _Sanos_ abilities. You know your healing connected us in a way, don't you?" At Harry's nod and tightening of his arms, Severus closed his eyes.

He laughed with no humour. "My service was finally over. I should have known better. My career as a spy had started winding down earlier in the year, right after the Christmas of your fifth year. Voldemort did not summon me as much and when called, it was to be punished and reviled, the information obtained--questionable. Lucius whispered poison to Voldemort in my absence. I felt useless and spent quite a bit of time that winter up at Grimmauld Place especially after--the end of our Occlumency classes." He looked out over Harry's chest to the window beyond, seeing the grounds past the lanai.

"Sirius was there, alone with that twisted house-elf, slowly going crazy. He was, you know--unbalanced, that is. Dumbledore kept him there for his safety in more ways than just from the Ministry. Having nothing better to do, we talked and he told me many stories about school. About your father and Lily. Why your father hated me so, although I still don't believe it. We reconciled in a way. Although we could never be friends again, we stopped hating each other."

"Is that why the cloak--hurt--you so much?" Harry asked gently.

Severus shrugged against his shoulder. "In a way. I suppose more than anything, it was a reminder of him not listening to me, not that he ever did."

"How so?"

Severus raised his head to look at him. "I tried, Harry. I really tried to stop him from sneaking out of the house. He did it on a regular basis. And when I couldn't, I told him to take the cloak I'd given him as a birthday present when we were children, to be cautious, to test the waters, so to speak, before he leapt in. He was so stubborn. And in the end he died." 

He sighed, putting his head back down in the hollow of Harry's shoulder. "When I found the potion to go through the Veil, I knew I had to try. I would have done it by myself, but the text was clear--I needed a spotter. I asked Remus; I knew how much he missed Sirius and thought he would help me. He was willing, eager even, but only if we asked Moody as well."

"You did it for me?" Harry was horrified.

Chagrin coloured his voice. "I would like to say I did, but I hadn't thought of it. No, I did it for myself and the little boy who was my friend before life intervened."

Harry blew out a gust of air in relief and tightening his hold, kissed him on top of the head. "I'm glad. I couldn't have borne that. I'm having a hard enough time thinking you went all mawkish on me." Harry smiled.

Severus sat up, Harry's leg over his lap, the other behind him. Feeling better about the whole thing, he said with asperity, "There's no need to be insulting. Mawkish indeed."

Harry chuckled. "And that's it?" he asked hopefully.

Severus looked pensively out the window, his previous comfort evaporating. "Well, there is one other thing," he replied, still not sure he could actually voice the words he needed to say. Things buried deep within him tended to stay that way.

Sighing, Harry said gently, "Tell me, Severus."

Surprised at his resigned tone, Severus was heartened by the openness of his eyes. "You had a nightmare night before last--about us. It woke me up and not just out of my sleep--" He looked off again, his eyes unfocusing.

"No matter what happens, no matter how you feel about me now, know that I love you and I have for many years." When Harry sat up, tense beside him, Severus shifted to better accommodate him, their hands twining, but he couldn't bring himself to look. He murmured, "I didn't even know it myself until Dumbledore and I almost killed you in that duel and again later when I brought you in from the last battle. You were so still and I was afraid." 

Harry tentatively touched Severus on the chest, the hand moving more confidently to his shoulder. When the other one threaded into his hair, subtly begging for his attention, Severus finally turned to him. The glowing happiness in Harry's eyes took Severus' breath away, warming him to his very core. And it contained a blinding revelation--he, Severus Snape, had given this to Harry; he'd put that look on Harry's face with something so simple as a few fragile words spoken from within him. Famished, like a child with his first bite of chocolate, he wanted more. He knew now what to say, what would express the fullness of his heart.

Severus leant over and held Harry's face in his hands, more precious now than ever, his eyes serious, piercing Harry's heart with his intensity. "Gods, how I love you. I could no more walk away from you than I could leave my own skin. I'm sorry if I hurt you, I never meant to."

Harry tilted his head and gave him a single, serious kiss, the hand in Severus' hair suddenly gripping hard. Their lips clung as he pulled away and he whispered into them, "I know, I've always known. It's always been in your eyes, your hands, the secret expression on your face I know is only for me. I love you, Severus, and I can think of nothing you could do that would make me stop, even if you were Voldemort himself."

Severus closed his eyes, full. "Thank you. Especially in putting up with an old, foolish man like me."

Harry said firmly, "No, Severus. Don't thank me, please. We are who we are, nothing more, nothing less. It's something one just accepts, not makes."

He pulled Severus back down in his arms, settling them into the couch. "I won't deny that what you told me today upsets me. I won't tell you I'm not angry. Won't hide my dismay over your relationship with Lucius, although out of all of it, I understand it more than you think I do. Won't say your pictures of my father and godfather don't wound me. Can't tell you that I don't want to hear more about them, although I won't ask it of you. For to do any of these things would be to lie to you. And I'm done with lies, tired of them, from both of us."

He kissed the top of his head and when Severus raised it, he gave him another serious kiss. And another, both of them conveying whole worlds of meaning with just their lips.

Severus raised himself up and scooted closer, leaning over Harry. He brushed his lips over the tempting ones below his. Harry's emerald eyes were serious when he declared, "I'll say it, every day for the rest of my life if I have to, until you believe me. I want no more doubts, no secrets anymore. I just want to love you."

Severus knew he would make a fool of himself if he said more than "I think I can do that."

"No, Sev." Harry pulled him closer and whispered, "Don't think, just do."

So heart to heart, they did.

****

_Ho`i hou i ka mole._  
Return to the taproot.  
The return to love and loyalty for kith and kin after the severing of a relationship.

_Aloha mai no, aloha aku; o ka huhu ka mea e ola `ole ai._  
When love is given, love should be returned; anger is the thing that gives no life.


	44. Part IV Ua Ola Loko i Ke Aloha

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
{Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right}  
by [I Got Tired of Waiting]

* * *

_Edited for FF.net--just a little--524 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.  
  
I apologise if this "feels" choppy, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

* * *

Part IV : Resolution  
**Chapter Forty Four : Ua Ola Loko i Ke Aloha.**

**31 July 2003**

Harry woke up slowly, his name a whisper from the moist warm lips nuzzling his neck from behind. He found himself twisted in the sheets, his legs entwined with his lover's, knees bent. Severus' one arm was curled over his head on the pillow, the hand running through his hair. His other was curved around his waist, the hand, splayed on his lower abdomen, pulling him closer to him. The possessiveness of that hand, the pressured intimacy of it took his breath away even as it held him firmly against his body.

Severus was close behind him, moulded to him. His lips traveled along Harry's neck, ghosting open mouth kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue leaving wet spots of pleasure as each exhalation of breath wafted across them, making him shiver. Oh so close, he could feel his chest tight against his back, the muscles shifting as Severus moved his head and pulled Harry into him.

Severus shifted closer to Harry; he had not thought it was possible, but the hand inexorably drew him more firmly into him, so tight. Severus' heart beat steadily, strongly against his back. With the unusual silence, Harry realised his lover was still asleep, his body, his response a part of a dream. A most pleasant dream it seemed.

Severus' hand moved away to cup the sweet place where Harry's hip curved before smoothing into his stomach. He had loosened his hold a bit with the move; Harry released his breath slowly only to catch it again as he felt Severus moving behind him, closing the short space between them. Severus made a growling noise of frustration in his throat and his hand once again traveled back to where it had been.

Severus shifted yet again, his lips travelling less and kissing more, almost suckling the sensitive skin there. He heard the sharp hiss of breath on his back as Severus' forehead finally rested there, his back now arched slightly away from his as Severus pleasured them both, bringing them to the edge and over.

Afterwards, Severus was never really sure what _one_ thing woke him up. It didn't matter with the shock waves still pulsing through him. Harry's body sagged against him, his breathing heavy and languid, the aftershocks shuddering through him at odd intervals. When Severus pulled back to move away, Harry grasped his hand and pulled it back around him, holding it and him captive. Harry sighed deeply and brought his hand to his mouth, his fingers tangled on top with his and kissed the palm. When Severus felt the kisses to the tips of his fingers, he relaxed a bit and held Harry as he obviously wanted.

Severus raised up on his elbow and ghosted his lips over the bruises he'd left. "Good morning, love, and Happy Birthday," he breathed into Harry's neck, his tongue following his lips in short nips along the column up to his ear.

Harry sighed as he turned over to face Severus, who took one look at the cat-like contentment on his face and knew Harry had been well pleased. Harry curled into his chest, his hands sweeping Severus' waist as his lover folded him into his arms. "Thank you. That was, as always, a bit of all right," he said as he did every time they loved. "I see now why you like being awakened this way."

Severus smiled; it was indeed the first time he'd roused Harry this way and he chuckled. "Does this mean you'd rather have this instead of my _normal_ way of waking you?" he asked, running his hand leisurely up Harry's back.

"Hmmmm. It does require some thought, doesn't it? I'm not sure I have enough evidence to make a proper decision, though; I believe it bears further study." Severus could feel his laughter run through his chest. "Although I have to admit, had I known how much more intense it could be to make you wait until I pleasured you, I would've tried it long ago."

Severus growled, "Don't you dare. I'm older, remember? It takes me longer to get there. You're the greyhound, not me."

"Oh right. A regular tortoise you are." He snorted. "Actually, that's not a bad analogy, although hedgehog comes more easily to mind, but I'll save _that_ discussion when my mind is more on philosophy and less on phal--"

They both stiffened with the sound of the front door to the cottage opening and slamming shut. Harry was already sitting up in the bed, his wand drawn, Severus beside the door when Kahealani ran into the room, out of breath, her face flushed from running.

She stopped at the foot of the bed, her words tripping over themselves to get out, "Master Potter, Master Potter, mom needs you. Kalani has been hurt badly, he needs your help. Please come now. She says to Apparate or Floo to her office. Aunty's coming too, but you're closer." Harry held up a hand to stop the flow of words.

"Kahealani, could you please turn around a second?" he asked, not wanting to embarrass her when he got out of bed.

She obligingly turned her back to him. He sprang out of the bed and scooping a pair of shorts out of the drawer, he soon had them on along with a vest. He turned to look at Severus who was likewise dressed. He was about to Floo when it dawned on him why Kahealani had run all the way; she couldn't transport herself. "Kehea'?" She turned around. "Give me one hand and Severus the other. We'll get you there faster."

Severus had already made it over to them and, taking Kahealani's hand, put his arm around Harry's shoulders. "I'll do it, you'll need all your strength when you get there; Malia would not have called you were it not serious." Harry nodded gratefully and with a surge of power at the spoken spell, they Apparated and were standing in Malia's office. There was a large group of people milling about in the outer office who gaped at their sudden loud appearance but, after recovering, didn't look all that surprised, either.

They parted for Harry, who went through the door and stepped into the kitchen of Malia's house, Severus and Kahealani right behind him. "That's a neat trick," Harry said as he made his way to the long table where Malia was standing, dozens of blood soaked, hotel towels lying on the tile floor. Another Medi-witch was standing across the table from her, helping Malia staunch the flow of blood that was everywhere.

To say Kalani was a mess was akin to saying the bombing of London was a fireworks show. Half his head was caved in as was his chest in several places, his breathing shallow, wet and sucking. He could hear Severus behind him audibly pull in his breath and Kahealani cry out, her tears muffled as a relative took her in her arms and led her away.

"Severus, please clear everyone out of the room, except the four of us. Malia, tell me what happened," Harry heard himself say, even as he sank into the state of mind he needed to heal.

"He was out net fishing this morning for the hotel's dinner when a wave caught him and dashed him into the rocks. His friend, he always goes with a friend, tried to get him out, but the surf was too rough. Even with magic, it took a while to get him to shore. They Apparated here and then I sent Kahealani to you." She was trying hard to remain calm. He would have liked to remove her, but knew he couldn't.

"How long?" he asked, his voice getting dreamy and far away.

"Since the accident, Malia, he needs to know how long he's been like this," Severus prodded when she didn't immediately reply.

"I don't know, no more than an hour?" she replied, panicked.

He nodded in acknowledgment. Eyeing the other woman, Harry asked, "Your name?" .

"Gretchen, sir," the Medi-witch said.

"Ever worked with a Healer before?" He was almost where he needed to be, his voice low and melodious, soothing.

"No, sir," she replied, nervous. "I'm a midwife, sir."

He sighed. _'Hurry Poppy, I need you!'_ To Gretchen, he said without rancor, "Please, don't touch me or the patient unless I tell you to. And please, stop calling me sir."

"OK, sir."

He waited until her hands and Malia's withdrew, the blood pulsing up weakly from a severed artery in Kalani's arm. He moved there first, his hands moulding directly over the spot, the blood warm on his hands. With a whisper, it stopped, the gash closing, the skin barely healed. He cast a warming spell to help with the shock and blood loss. It would hold and he could finish it later. Right now he had worse things to contend with.

How worse it was became evident after the first pass of his hands, his diagnostic spells painting a picture of internal bleeding, broken bones, a lung in peril, and a brain under building pressure from several ruptured blood vessels, the skull crushed on one side.

"Is Poppy coming? he asked, triaging as he spoke.

"She should be here any minute now," Malia said, looking over at the fireplace, willing her sister to hurry.

"Good, I'll need her help." _'That's an understatement. We'll be lucky to heal him in time.'_ He suppressed the negative thoughts.

He'd started on the lungs as the most immediate threat when Poppy stepped out of the fireplace. She no more nodded at everyone than she was standing opposite him, gauging his progress. Her no-nonsense voice cut gently across his concentration, her timing perfect. "Where do you need me, Harry?"

"I am almost done with his breathing. I need to work on his head injury; I leave you the rest. I partially healed a bleeder on his left arm, it won't hold much longer."

"All right. Any _Sanos_ yet?" She waved her wand over the arm and the already leaking wound, healing it the rest of the way.

"Not now, maybe later after I can assess the pathways. There's so much damage here. If you get tired, have Gretchen help."

"Harry, let me finish the lungs. His head is getting critical," she observed urgently, noting the paling of her nephew's face.

"You're right. Thank you, Poppy, it's good to have you here." He gave her a sweet smile before turning his attention to the head injury.

_'What a bloody mess.'_ Harry pulled his magic into a ball inside him, the better to conserve it and distribute it evenly. He sank deep into the pathways and started following them, repairing bits of damage as he went, stopping more and more frequently as the damage became denser. The bones on the face were the least of his efforts and with a sharp sucking sound, they pulled out of their resting place to form back into the shape they'd held before the accident. Weaving in and out of his magic when expended, he could feel Poppy doing her work, her timing such that she was never doing magic while he was. Since hers was becoming less critical as his became more so, their timing was easy.

The cranial pressure in Kalani's head was building; he released some of the fluid through the skin of Kalani's neck. A thick river of dark blood and fluid ran down the table and onto the floor. He vaguely heard someone, female, gasp and Severus' soothing tones telling her it was all right, it was a good sign. He took his own heart from the dulcet voice of his lover, aware on another level that this was the first time Severus had been present while he healed.

After he'd repaired all the physical damage he could, including the four bleeders he found, he started hunting the links. He sighed when he found the first broken connection. _'I hate this part, but there's no getting around it. And it won't be the last either.'_ Refocussing on the scene around him, he asked, "Malia, does he have a wife or a lover?"

She raised frightened eyes to him, "He's _Mahu_. He has a husband."

"Good, you won't have to decide alone. I need you both and hurry." While he waited, dormant, Poppy went on a healing frenzy, finishing up all the remaining superficial repairs. She started washing Kalani. Each pass of the cloth, dipped in a disinfecting potion Severus made for her by the gallon, cleaned the blood and the grime off until all that was left was his head to clean. She gently wiped Kalani's face and got most of it. It would help Harry to be better able to see.

She then told Harry to hold out his arms and she scrubbed Kalani's blood off of them and his hands. A few thorough swipes across his cheeks and chin took care of some splatters of which he'd not even been aware, the cloth rasping on his unshaved stubble. Something about it triggered a memory and he smiled to himself at the sudden image of Horatio's hissing fit the first time Cally had tried to bathe his face--he suspected the cloth Poppy had just used was as rough as Cally's tongue.

She handed him a fresh vest, from where he hadn't a clue and, frankly, didn't care. He took it gratefully; the one he'd thrown on--was it really only this morning?--was crusted with bits he really didn't want to identify. He quickly stripped off the old shirt, which Poppy wordlessly took from him, and just as quickly put on the new one, which was a little big. "Oh, that is ever so much better," Harry exclaimed softly. "Thank you, Poppy." She patted his cheek with affection and bustled about cleaning everything up.

He was about to turn to Severus when Malia came back into the room accompanied by Kalani's husband, limping, and heavily leaning on Malia for support.

"Harry, this is Ben," Malia said by way of introduction, standing just off the end of the table. "Ben, Harry is a _kahuna lapa'au_."

Harry found himself looking at a local man a few years older than Severus. Tall and lean, elegant in the same manner as Severus, Ben held his gaze steadily, calmly. _'Good taste, Kalani.'_ His shorts and shirt were torn in places, the exposed bits of him, from head to toe, covered in minor cuts and huge purpling bruises with a few nasty gashes on his forearms and shins.

"You're the one who pulled him out?" Harry asked, regretting the brusqueness. At his nod, he turned to Poppy, "I need him whole."

While Poppy set to work, Harry took the opportunity to move to the head of the table. At first he simply touched Kalani's face, neck, and arms, feeling for the pulses, which were weak but steady beneath his fingers. However, his body was too cool, so Harry adjusted the warming spells, testing the skin at intervals. Within a few moments, Kalani's body temperature was where it should be and Harry was relieved--Kalani had lost so much fluid and was too weak to use the blood building spells on him.

Harry next placed his hands lightly on Kalani's face, the heels of his hands near the temples, the fingers curling slightly at the chin while he murmured a few diagnostic spells. Satisfied that his initial repairs had held, he finally allowed himself to return Severus' concerned stare with one of his own. When Harry gave him a weary smile, Severus nodded, the tautness of his mouth easing, his warm regard never wavering. Harry basked in the unexpectedly bracing communication between them, held only with their eyes.

Their silent communion was broken when Poppy moved back to stand with Severus. Looking much more comfortable, Ben's cuts and bruises were gone. Measuring their readiness from across the table, Harry noted Malia's fear was palpable, her brow puckered and drawn. Ben was obviously worried but quiet, his eyes fixed intently, not on Harry, but on his husband lying so still and pale on the table. Harry cleared his mind of their influence with some difficulty.

Clearing his throat to gather their attention, Harry said quietly, "Malia, Ben--I've come to some areas where you're going to have make some difficult choices for me--and Kalani. They'll need to be one or the other, I won't be able to repair both. I am sorry; however, the damage is extensive. I regret the decisions will have to be made swiftly, almost on a gut level, if we are to finish in time. You're to tell me what to keep. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Harry, we understand," Malia's light voice was echoed by a strong soft baritone.

_'I don't think you do, but you will soon enough.'_ Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and sank back into the pathways, travelling them swiftly until he found the first broken connection. "All right, eyesight or line of sight magic?" Malia gasped; he'd expected the reaction.

"Sight," they answered as one. Malia leaned over and murmured to Ben, "You speak, you'll have to live with the choices." He nodded and they waited.

He replaced the damage with a new connection, the _Sanos_ singing sharply. He moved on. A few minutes later, "Voice or compulsion?"

"Voice." Ben was very unruffled; Harry found it soothing.

On it went. "He can throw nets or quick-cast spells?"

Ben hesitated slightly. "Throw nets."

As the litany continued, one life-altering decision after another, Harry could feel the drain on his energy as he expended the _Sanos_ magic miserly, the conservation necessary with the extent of the injuries repaired. His eyes still closed, he could hear Severus rustling, shifting feet the way he was himself. He appreciated that Severus was standing, still supporting him, keeping himself as open as Harry was; he felt Severus sharing the pain of the decisions with him and drew much-needed strength from Severus' open respect of his skills. Harry never questioned how he could _feel_ his lover this way through the _Sanos_ magic, it was rather like Severus sensing him under the invisibility cloak; it just was.

On and on it went, choice after choice. By the time Harry was done, hours later, Kalani had marginal magic but all of his culture. He would lose nothing his family considered essential, although Harry had seen their pain and tears as magical skills were discarded one after another.

"We're almost done," Harry said, the exhaustion clear in his voice and in his pale face. He struggled to stay upright as he checked Kalani over one more time, the stiffness in his joints a separate pain. "Ben, I need to speak to you, alone."

"Can we leave him?" he asked, concerned, weary beyond anything he'd ever known.

Harry offered what reassurance he could. "He's stable for the moment and Poppy's here."

"Then let's go outside in the sun." Ben opened the screen door to the lanai.

"I'd like that, thank you." He followed Ben outside, stopping briefly when he reached Severus, their eyes exchanging messages of love and encouragement, their hands brushing. Severus stayed in the kitchen, his arm around Malia, trying to help her sort through it all.

"I thought he could heal him," she said bitterly, angrily.

"He _is_ healing him, but sometimes things don't always work out the way we want them. Understand, Malia, had he been Muggle, he would be dead--or worse," Severus told her gently.

The conversation faded the farther from the door Ben and Harry went. They sat on a bench in the backyard; Harry was afraid he would never stand again. He stretched his legs. Ben started off, "I'm sorry, she loves him and is worried." He hesitated before he said, "It's not good, is it?"

"No, Ben, it's not. He's healed physically, but we took away so many bits of him as we went, he's not quite 'in' there anymore." They were silent for a few minutes. "You're a Wizard?"

"Yes, a fairly strong one," he replied with no pride; it was a statement of fact.

Harry nodded, considering. "Good. We've some time, maybe an hour or two before we lose him. How long have the two of you been together?"

"We've been together for 15 years. We made vows eight years ago," Ben replied.

"Closed Form vows? You're bound?" Harry was starting to feel an edge of hope.

"Yes. Albus Dumbledore bound us." Ben smiled to himself at the memory.

Harry chuckled, "Seems he gets around."

Ben laughed as well. "Aunty Poppy insisted. They're--close friends--and Malia knows him as well; she brings him _haupia_. Aunty said there was no one more powerful." He eyed Harry. "I think, perhaps, she was wrong."

Harry shrugged. "Who knows. Albus is powerful, so is Severus, so am I, for that matter. It's our skills that are different and unique. Albus is, well, Albus," he grinned, "Severus is a Potions Master, one of the best, and I'm a Healer, my skills--different," he said with no pride. "By the way, what's a _kahuna lapa'au_?

"What you are, a doctor or a Master Healer."

Harry nodded. "Ah, thank you." He thought hard a few moments, and asked slowly, "Tell me Ben, with all the honesty in your heart--do you love Kalani?"

Ben stared at him only for a second and quietly said, "Yes, I love him."

"Would you die for him?" The question took Ben by surprise. "Let me explain. There may be a way to possibly restore him, Ben. It's very risky and is an all or nothing proposition. We either all succeed and live, or we all fail and die; either way we're in it together. Think carefully about this. If we're successful, you'll be bonded to him for life, deeper than your marriage vows. Part of you will complete him; it will be up to me to bind it. It's a forever thing and he might not be happy with it at first; it's very intimate--to some frightening. If you don't love him or if there is _any_ doubt, this won't work and we'll all lose."

"Even you? You would die as well?" At Harry's nod, Ben shook his head. "You would risk your life on my word?"

"No, I would stake my life on your truth, on the depth of your love for him. Did you meet Severus?" At Ben's nod, he said, "He's my lover. We've dared much for each other before, even our lives. I can easily believe there are others who feel the same way we do. That's what I risk, what he risks. Our faith in your love for Kalani. Do you understand?"

"Why?" Ben had to know his motives.

"It's who we are." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, I can explain it no better."

He took Harry's measure and found nothing wanting. "I would die for him," Ben stated simply.

Harry lightly laughed. "Somehow, I thought you would." He put his hand on Ben's shoulder. "Come, let's go in and bring him back."

Harry stood but before he could turn, Ben took him in an embrace, saying "_Aloha_" and laid his cheek on Harry's. Releasing him, he placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and said, his eyes intense, "_Aloha_ is a versatile word. It embodies a concept well beyond 'hello', 'goodbye', or 'I love you'. It can mean 'Sharing the Breath of Life', meaning you are family, worthy of sharing breath with me and I with you. In another way it also means, 'Joyfully Sharing Life'. If I understood what you said, this is what you intend for us to do with Kalani. I have faith in you. I don't know why, but I do."

Harry was humbled. This one simple gesture gave him renewed hope and energy. He kissed Ben softly on the cheek and said, "_Aloha_ and thank you."

They went back into the kitchen. The force of Malia's anger and panic, almost physical, battered him as he entered the small room. He knew he couldn't work with it there hanging over them. He stood in front of Severus and held his calm gaze. "Severus, I would ask only you and Poppy remain for what we have to do next." He moved his eyes to the woman next to him. "I'm very sorry, Malia, but your doubt could hurt us."

She started to protest, but Severus' eyes held hers. Nodding, she acknowledged he was right. She walked over to Kalani and kissed him, embraced Ben, and walked out of the room. The others who had come in while they were outside also left until only the four of them were remaining. Silently, Harry leaned in and, cupping his cheek, kissed Severus full on the lips, their eyes holding for an eternity. Then he was gone and Severus was afraid.

"Ben, stand at Kalani's head, please," Harry said softly as Ben moved into place. His next words could only be heard by the two of them. "Close your eyes. When we're ready I'm going to touch you. Do not move or speak, please, no matter what happens or how you feel. And whatever you do, don't touch Kalani. It's important you stay still. All right?"

"I'm ready," Ben replied, his eyes closing. Harry believed him.

"I want you to think of a time, one time the two of you were perfect. A time that if you could have it forever, you would keep it with you always." He waited a moment, watching him closely. He saw a peaceful, happy look cross Ben's face and settle there. "Good, now hold onto that time, don't let it go, think on it always, keep the feeling. It's good isn't it? A little bit of all right?" Ben nodded and smiled but said nothing.

Harry dropped back to where he needed to be, deep within himself and pulled in his own memories--the cottage last week--the lovely, quivery feeling inside him when Severus had told him how much he loved him. A beatific smile lit his face. He opened his eyes a moment and whispered, "Severus?"

"Yes, Harry?" he said quietly, coming into his line of sight. His eyes widened slightly in wonder; he gave Harry an almost shy smile in return.

Harry placed his right hand on Kalani's chest, his left hovering over Ben's. "I love you, Severus," he said, his eyes never leaving him as he placed his hand flat on Ben's chest.

"I love you, Harry," Severus whispered, not sure Harry heard him, but it didn't matter. He knew.

The connection was made, Ben to Harry to Kalani. Harry's hands started to glow. The clear tones of the _Sanos_ started, low, extended, the magic of the deep healing ringing through their heads. It was a new _Schema_, Harry's _Schema_, one he _created_ within himself to weave the two men into one whole. The noises in the room beyond ceased as well. Harry fell deep into the spell, controlling it as he spread it throughout Kalani, trying to keep it even. It was a struggle, Ben's magic was strong indeed, but fortunately as calm as its owner. It was only a matter now of keeping his own to himself, to use it only to guide, not supplant.

Severus all at once understood what he was doing. _'NO! Gods no, Harry. Don't! You could lose yourself. Do you know what--'_ He stopped his ranting thoughts, suddenly realising that they, and the frantic energy they contained, could disturb Harry's concentration. And he understood deeply, in one clear moment, all of what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. Yes, Harry knew. He knew the risks _and he chose to take them._ The knowledge was devastating. Every time Harry went out to practice this art, he could lose him. Every single time. _'That's why he said it, because it might be goodbye.'_

The light had spread from Harry's hand to diffuse in ripples across Kalani's body. Ben looked strained, but it was Harry who held Poppy and Severus' attention. He was sweating with the effort, paler, almost translucent, each second as he poured Ben's life into Kalani. The _Sanos_ rang a new song with each passing moment, now two notes weaving in and out of each other as Ben's magic melded with Kalani's, Harry's the glue holding it together until theirs could join permanently.

_'Don't leave me, Harry, not now. I finally understand. Hold onto yourself. I'm waiting.'_ Severus felt his eyes tear. And then he was not alone. Poppy took his hand, holding tight, and her words floated through his head once again, "_Don't miss even one day with someone you love_." He fully understood and knew he would accept it, even if it was just one more day. He willed Harry to succeed, to give him at least this one more time, the opportunity to let him know he'd finally comprehended it was _their_ risk--one he was willing to give as freely as Harry did himself.

Kalani took a deep shuddering breath and another, crying out, his body arching, whether in pain or ecstasy, was unclear. It didn't matter, they were just two sides of the same coin. "Almost there," they could hear Harry utter through gritted teeth. "Hold on, Ben, only--a--few--more--"

He broke contact.

Kalani, breathing heavily, his eyes wide open, stared wildly around him. Ben immediately took his face in his hands, giving him something to focus on. "Ah, love, you're back." He quickly moved to the side and kissed him lightly. "Don't talk. It'll be all right in a moment." He looked up at Harry to thank him and cried out. Severus was already moving and caught his swaying lover, cradling him gently to the floor.

"Ah Sev, that was a bit of all right," he breathed into the pressing darkness.

* * *

_Ua Ola Loko i Ke Aloha._  
Love gives life within.

* * *

TBC


	45. Part IV Ho'olaulea

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part IV : Resolution  
**Chapter Forty Five : Ho'olaulea**

**06 August 2003**

The smells of steaming Kalua Pig coming from the _Imu_ made Harry's mouth water, as did the rich fare piling up on the tables behind him as more _Ohana_, or family, came bringing their contribution to the feast. The members of the family along with Harry and Severus had come to this spot the day before to dig the _Imu_ pit and set up the preparation and cooking areas for this Ho'olaulea deep in the foothills at an "Aunty's" house, one of Malia's huge extended family. 

The squeals of the pig, a young wild boar caught higher up in the mountains a few days before, had disturbed Harry when he'd found out it was going be the main course the next night. However, Severus, with his ever present practicality, waded in with nary a wince and helped slaughter and dress the huge beast while Harry went with Malia, Kalani, and others to gather Ti leaves in which to wrap the meat for the all night steaming.

While they were gone, Ben surreptitiously healed a minor slash on Severus' arm where the boar's tusks had caught him while they were pulling it down. Ben swore he would never tell Harry, saying Kalani would have killed him, too, had he known how many times Ben had been caught the same way, just like he had this evening. He showed Severus a similar, healed nick he'd received and laughingly told Severus they were 'boar brothers' now. Severus didn't get the joke, but did understand the intent. The two of them were forming a fast friendship and Severus had laughed easily, feeling a little less embarrassed over the whole incident--he'd not realised just how strong the damned thing would be.

Harry was sitting to the side, something of a 'guest of honour', although he still didn't know why. Nor did he know what they were celebrating; it was never clear and there was a lot going on. Although, he suspected these easy-going people would find almost any reason to have a party.

Kalani was well. He'd taken a few days to get up and about, but it was understandable. He didn't exactly wake up with the same body he'd had before the accident. In some respects he was physically better. Harry's healing restored not only the injured bits of him but had also fixed a couple of nagging chronic problems as well. However, there was a downside. His magic was diminished, so he was relearning some skills but most importantly, was coming to grips with the part of Ben that was now inside him. This would be the hardest thing to assimilate, Harry knew from experience, but one look at their eyes this afternoon told him they would work it out in the end. 

He just wished Kalani would talk to him. Harry had gone to check on him a few times to make sure he was progressing well, and had been met with stoic silence, Ben answering his questions while Kalani's eyes had followed him accusingly. He and Severus had grown fond of the man and his sister over the past weeks. Vibrant, always ready with a flashing smile or a pert joke, Kalani had been more than someone who 'saw to their needs'; he'd become a friend. Harry thought about the adventures they'd had with him from riding the horses up into the mountains to sliding down rock water slides on thick pieces of cardboard to protect their bums. His silence hurt, something Harry knew he could ill afford to feel--not if he were to continue to be a Healer.

Malia had forgiven him and apologised, for which he was grateful, so that was cause for some personal celebration. 

Severus had accepted him and his work. And to him, this was the biggest celebration of them all. He didn't remember much after collapsing to the floor of Malia's kitchen, his vague impressions that of Poppy telling Severus, whose calm voice belied the tight grip he'd had on him, that Harry was going to be fine--he just needed some rest (to which Harry had heartily agreed, although for the life of him he couldn't make his mouth form the words) and afterwards there'd been a few groggy recollections of Severus undressing him and making him take the restorative during the night. He'd finally awakened, feeling well and rested, to find himself wrapped carefully in Severus' arms in their cottage late the next morning. He'd been asleep as well, rousing almost as soon as Harry's eyes had opened. The love and understanding and acceptance in those eyes, then and now, were the balm Harry desperately needed to replenish the bits of himself he lost whenever he _Sanos_-healed.

Now if he could just learn to distance himself from his patients, life would be good.

A shadow across his lap drew his attention upward. Almost as if summoned, Kalani stood over him. "Come. We need to talk."

Harry nodded and, rising from his seat on the ground, followed him to a series of benches farther away set aside for the dancing and music to come after dinner.

Severus, talking quietly to Ben, stopped and watched their progress. Ben turned to watch as well, a small frown on his brow which quickly smoothed. When Severus glanced back, Ben said, "Don't worry. He needed a few days to get to it. It'll be OK." Severus nodded but continued to fix his attention on them.

"You're very protective of him, aren't you?" Ben asked, a small smile gracing his long face.

Severus smiled ruefully, "Old habits die hard. I've been doing it off and on since he was 11. My own ease in his abilities has not come easily and is a recent acquisition. Please forgive me if I don't want to see him hurt."

Ben laughed easily, drawing the attention and smiles of those nearest him. "Seems we're more alike than I thought. I taught Kalani starting from when he was ten, a little brat if there ever was one. Tell me, when did you _know_?"

The question startled him into answering honestly, "When I almost lost him; he was almost 19 and had just killed Voldemort."

Ben looked over at Harry, deep in conversation with Kalani. He had some difficulty reconciling the powerful but humble Wizard he'd seen bring his lover back, with the hero who had brought down the Dark Lord. The only thing the two sides had in common was power--and purpose. He decided it was the purpose that set Harry apart. Set them both apart. Severus' reputation in the whole affair was no less known than Harry's, but it was easier to see where Severus was quite capable of the things Joseph had said he'd done. He smiled to himself--hot and cold, the two of them. He was willing to wager it was never boring around them. "So much violence from such a gentle man. Is that why he heals?" 

"Expiation is one of his many reasons, I suppose," Severus said thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving Harry. "I suppose he does feel some lingering guilt over those who died or were injured because of the battles we fought; however, it would be more accurate to say his role against the Dark Lord was thrust upon him, the culmination of a prophecy, and against his nature in the first place. Harry's a builder, not a destroyer." Ben started at the naked thoughts flitting across Severus' normally closed face and began to get an inkling of the horrors he and Harry had faced together. "We both are in our own manner. We were dragged into the conflict against our wishes and did what we had to do. His heroics are now done in small ways, day to day." He shrugged, "What we do is who we are; it satisfies."

"Ah, that's never easy, is it? You two are good for each other." Not expecting a reply he continued, changing the subject. "Now about that--"

****

Kalani sat down next to Harry on the bench, his eyes to the ground, obviously uncomfortable.

Harry noted his unease and said, "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I understand."

Kalani laughed low. "No, I don't think you do. You're not living in my skin, so how can you?"

Harry looked over at Severus, deep in conversation with Ben. "I do, actually. It happened to me when I first healed Severus. I was only 16 and didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. I didn't know anything then; it wasn't until later, when I started my training, that I discovered how much of myself I put in Severus and how much I took. He _knows_, but other than one quick mention, it's one of those things we'll never talk about."

Kalani nodded and sighed. "Is that what you did to me and Ben? Gave us each a part of the other?" Kalani was still struggling with it.

Harry sympathised. "Yes, it's the only way. I'm sorry if it upset you."

"Upset might be too strong a word. Startled and unexpected might be better." Kalani tilted his head, asking, "Tell me, can you sense Severus' thoughts?"

"No, only his feelings, sometimes, if they're very strong, but I've never been sure if that's because of the _Sanos_ among other things or if it's the intuition really close lovers experience. Can you? Sense Ben's thoughts?" Harry was not surprised. It was what had made Ron so angry with him; he could _hear_ Hermione and he'd hated it at first.

"Sometimes. When we're quiet. I can _feel_ him though, inside me. I _know_ if he's well or not, can tell when he's near. Like yesterday, the boar nicked him. I could feel it when it happened, but he said nothing to me about it, not that he ever will."

"Does it bother you? This feeling? I admit to some curiosity from a clinical standpoint as well as personally."

"It did--doesn't now. Never bothered Ben, though. Actually, I think he enjoys it." The discomfort returned. "I wanted to thank you. An Aunty took some pictures of my injuries when they brought me in. I'm grateful I survived. I was angry when I found out how much of my magic I had lost, mad at you--and Ben. Mom told me you made her leave. I was mad at that, too. But then Poppy got a hold of me; you know how she is." Harry chuckled softly--he certainly did. "She told me a little about you, about how long you worked on me and the list of hard decisions Ben and Mom had to make. That helped, but when Ben told me about the risk you took as well--I--I didn't know what to say--I still don't except to say thank you. Do you do that every time?"

Harry considered it. "You are most welcome. And no, not every time. It depends on the people involved. I have had a couple of cases where I could have tried it but chose not to because the commitment wasn't there. Nor was the love and affection. Without those, the particular _Sanos Schema_ I use will not work and the hardest thing I do is walk away. I do not risk my life foolishly; Severus would kill me if I did," he smiled wryly. "Ben showed no hesitation, he _knew_ you, and I could see his belief in you by his choices, by the pain each one caused. You were a good risk."

At a loss, Kalani stood. Harry followed suit. They stared at each other for a few seconds, eyes unbroken. Kalani embraced him hard and walked away, leaving Harry to gaze after him in satisfaction thinking that maybe distance was not all it's cracked up to be.

****

Severus sat with one foot up on the bench, knee bent, the other leg on the ground. Harry was seated in the space in between them, his one hand on Severus' thigh the other wrapped around his leg, hand on his knee. Severus' arm was around his shoulders, his other hand braced against the bench behind him, Harry's side tucked in. It was nighttime, the area around them lit by a huge fire and torches surrounding the field where they sat. Every now and again, Severus would touch the side of his face with the hand from his shoulder and draw him in for a light kiss. It was so spontaneous, it made Harry's heart leap every time he did it. And he offered a few caresses of his own.

To be so at ease, allowed and encouraged to be affectionate among all these people who accepted them as family was a blessing Harry knew shouldn't be hoarded. To see the indulgent glances the older folk gave them at their open devotion made him feel warm inside. That Severus felt the same way was the true miracle Hana had given them; this was the last night they would share it. Tomorrow would take them back to chilly Scotland and the life they chose to live. School would be starting in a few short weeks; there were preparations to make and students to tutor in the meantime.

But not tonight. Tonight _was_ magic. The slack string guitars and _ukulele_ playing in the soft warm air after a repleting dinner was sometimes soothing, sometimes funny. The homespun _hula_ that went with it, either amusing or so stirring it brought tears to their eyes. They weren't odd for being so moved; they would have been odd were they not. Lovers were taken and lost, flowers picked and made into leis, _Pele_ honoured, and mock battles fought all in the form of music and the lithe movements of bodies carried away in exultation. 

While he'd known Ben and Severus had been 'up to something' over the past week, he'd been astonished to see Severus and Ben do a dance together, a mock battle with short staffs. Severus was an expert at this type of combat, as obviously was Ben. The ever faster staccato beat set by their staves joined in 'battle' and the sinuous grace of their elegant bodies to the steady chanting was powerful. His eyes met Kalani's glinting in the dark and knew they both were aroused by the virility exhibited by their lovers. When done, the approval of the gathering was loud and protracted. Severus had returned to his side a bit sweaty, a little embarrassed, but oh so possessive. He'd folded himself on the bench as they were now and Harry eagerly absorbed him.

The revelry went on well into the new morning and a couple of hours before dawn saw them regretfully saying goodbye to their new friends and family. They made their way a distance apart and Apparated back to their cottage, where they expended all the energy they'd stoked throughout the evening until it was time to greet the sun.

****

They woke at noon together and christened the bed one last time. Their bags were packed and they left them to be picked up by the bellman while they took one last walk back to the main building.

"This is so different than when we arrived, isn't it?" Harry asked quietly, holding Severus' hand.

"We're different; perhaps we grew up just a little," Severus replied.

They looked at each other. "Nah," they said together, laughing.

Malia was waiting for them at the lobby as was Ben, Kalani, and Kahealani. They each bore leis in their hands, which they looped around their necks, with soft kisses or touches on their cheeks and Aloha's in their ears.

"We'll send your bags and packages separately. You can Portkey from here, no one is around," Malia said with a smile. "Which reminds me. Here you are, Severus." She handed him a sheaf of papers. "All you need to do is sign where I marked and it's all yours. I'll file it with the county for you this afternoon, so I'll need two copies back."

Harry was mystified. "What's all yours?"

Malia covered her mouth with her hand, truly horrified. "Oh Merlin, Severus. I'm sorry. I didn't know it was a surprise."

"Not anymore," he said, chuckling. He turned to Harry. "I had intended on giving this to you for your birthday, which passed unnoticed in all the excitement, but the transaction didn't clear in time, anyway." He opened the papers and signed his name thrice in the places indicated, capped his new pen (which he was growing to like more than a quill), and handed two copies to Malia and one to Harry. "Happy Birthday," he said simply, kissing his cheek.

Harry opened the papers which were titled "Deed of Ownership". He skimmed down the pages, let out a whoop, and threw his arms around Severus, giving him a big wet kiss in the process. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. Where is it? Did we see it? When can we come back?" he asked excitedly.

"It's that little ramshackle cottage up off of the beach we passed every time we rode the horses that way. As to when we can come back, might I suggest as often as possible. The poor thing is liable to fall apart without constant work." He looked pleased.

"Oh, that would be good. Wouldn't want the shack falling down, now would we? Needs a lot of maintenance, it does. Got it." Harry laughed, delighted.

"You'll let us know when you're coming out next time?" Malia asked, then slyly added, "You know the owners of this hotel, not to mention the staff, are going to kill me when they find out I helped one of our best customers find another place to stay."

"Why do you think I bought the place?" Severus asked wryly. "I can't afford your establishment, as often as I'd like to return."

"Pish. Someone give me a shovel--the sand is getting deep here." They all laughed.

They said their goodbyes and with heavy hearts lightened by a promise of return, they took the Portkey to the outskirts of the castle. It was dark out; their way lit only by a half-moon.

"Brrr!" Harry exclaimed. "Damn, it's cold after Maui."

"I was just thinking the same thing. Well, there's no helping it now. Onwards and downwards. Perhaps, a brisk walk will warm us up."

They walked back to the castle apart but only in body for the first time in three weeks. "Feels odd, ya?"

Severus raised a brow at Harry's use of Pidgin. "Indeed."

****

"Harry! Severus! Welcome back. You look well, all relaxed and sunburnt," Dumbledore enthused as he greeted them at the front door. He eyed them closely and laughed, delighted. "And together. Finally. Maybe now I can get some sleep without worrying about you two."

"Oh, I wouldn't get too cosy, Albus," Severus said sweetly. Dumbledore's brows raised.

"Because we've been talking," Harry said with a snort.

"Together. Comparing notes," Severus continued.

They smiled evilly at him. "Should I tell him?" Severus asked Harry with mock seriousness.

"Well, I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise," Harry replied, just as serious.

Severus turned to him, his wicked eyes gleaming. "I think we'll just let you anticipate--"

"Good idea, keep him guessing."

Albus shook his head. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all--"

Severus chuckled. "Probably not, old man; however, you made our bed--"

"--And now you're just going to have to lie in it," Harry finished.

Dumbledore walked off muttering to himself.

Severus turned to Harry, unable to contain his laughter anymore. "Well, that was a bit of all right."

****

_Ho'olaulea_  
Celebration--Often a family picnic, gathering.

****

End Of Part IV : To be continued in Part V : Together


	46. Part V A Proposal

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part V : Together  
**Chapter Forty Six : A Proposal**

**14 August 2003**

A week later saw them securely settled into their routine. Harry went to a few job interviews, still not finding anything to satisfy him. He had many offers, all still open, but had accepted none. He didn't quite know what the problem was, but each one had something 'missing', or some 'catch' making the proposal unacceptable. He kept hoping one would turn up that was perfect; he might not know what it was he wanted, but he knew he would know it when it came up.

Severus was doing his annual 'before-the-beginning-of-the-school-year' ritual. There were lesson plans to be dusted off, ingredients to be prepared and stocked for the fall classes, and potions to be made for the school infirmary. In addition there was Albus' newest academic endeavor--extra lessons for the few students who elected private remedial potions tutouring.

Harry could almost feet sorry for the students desperate enough to brave the Potions Master without the stalwart backing of their peers. Although dedicated to helping them 'catch up' in the three weeks allotted to the private study, Harry knew Severus would not make it easy for them either. Nor did he suffer the two fools who had taken the class in the misguided hopes of currying extra favour with their irascible professor. Severus was rather disgusted by the whole thing and Harry had patiently listened to more than one tirade since they'd been back about Dumbledore's tactics in raising the standards now that students could concentrate on careers rather than conflict. The continuance of the graduate program had been the first step over four years ago, the addition of the summer school session last year, which Severus had narrowly escaped, and now this--

"Teaching a group of hopeless dullards what they should have learned in the first place, had they been remotely capable of paying any attention. Not that they do so now. Three years, let alone three weeks, will not make up for a lifetime of poor, irrational habits. I don't know what Albus was thinking of, if he even was--" And so on it went--and went--and went.

Severus had been finishing up a new batch of pain potions for Madame Pomfrey and preparing class demonstration ingredients when Harry came home earlier than expected, disgruntled, his afternoon interview a wasted bother. Instead of meeting with a hospice administrator as he'd expected, a reporter had greeted him; he'd walked out, furious, without saying a word.

Working always calmed him, so he started storing the ingredients Severus had already completed while he told him about what had happened. "Should be interesting what he writes," Harry observed as he bottled up the prepared Dragon's Heart for the lab's shelves, stashing the last bottle in the upper shelf of one of the locked cabinets. After re-warding it, he went to the stone sink and washed his hands.

"The Daily Prophet, nominated three times for 'Best Fiction in The British Isles'," Severus observed with a smirk, marking labels on a batch of mature Mandrake. "Let me guess, the rumours about your healing? No, wait--don't answer that. You're angry."

Severus struck a pose, hand poised over the bottle as if it were an imaginary pad of paper, an evil leer on his face. "Must have been something like," he quoted in an American accent, "'Mr. Potter, is it true you're having a torrid affair with the Prince of Evil, Severus Snape? And is he really as good in bed as he's rumoured to be?'" 

Harry laughed; he couldn't help it. Severus' little voices were just too funny. "Well, he didn't mention anything about an 'Evil Prince', but the rest is spot on. Cheeky bastard didn't even let me sit down before he asked the first question," Harry muttered.

Severus looked crushed. "What? No Evil Prince? I must be losing my touch."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call you evil. Wicked, perhaps." He lifted his brows.

Severus warded the door, grabbed him about the waist arching Harry against him, and kissed him breathless. "Only wicked?" he murmured while nibbling on his earlobe, his tongue lightly tracing the outer shell.

Harry shivered. "Well, maybe a little evil," he panted, suddenly rock hard.

Severus settled between his legs, teasing and nipping down Harry's neck, pressing him against one of the work tables. His hands dove under Harry's robes. "Only a _little_ evil?" Severus asked slyly, his nimble hands tormenting him through his clothes. He stopped and pulled back, his body still pressing Harry into the table, his hands poised to continue.

Harry hitched a breath, nerves taut. "Now _THAT_ is evil."

****

Afterwards, back in their quarters, their stomachs rumbling, Harry conjured Chinese take-out to the table in the little dining nook off of the sitting room. Severus eyed the white paper containers with some suspicion and the chopsticks with outright disbelief.

However, the food was tasty and he soon found his manual talents as a Potions Master were not wasted as he wielded the two sticks of wood dexterously through the noodles and the other exotic dishes with such funny names as, 'My-Good-Pan' and 'Chez-Zoo-Won-Eggplant'. Harry chuckled throughout the meal, especially when Severus chewed endlessly on some calimari asking him why the Chinese felt the need to eat rubber fish.

"It's not fish," Harry said, trying very hard not to laugh.

Severus raised a brow. "Not fish? What is it, then?"

Harry's eyes were dancing as he choked out, "Squid."

"Squid? Really?" Severus picked up one of the remaining rings and pretended to measure it. Looking through the ring at Harry, who was slumped in his chair holding his sides, he said ironically, "It's frightening; I can almost see the appeal."

Severus could tell by Harry's snort of laughter that he was remembering _The Book's_ Animagus pictures even as he was.

With mock severity Severus declared, "Bit of a performance issue there as well." He popped one of the pieces into his mouth rolling it in with the tip of his tongue. "I suppose one could always have one's partner deep fried if he failed to please." He swallowed. "A bit chewy, though."

That was it, Harry couldn't breathe. "Talk about--_pressure_!"

****

At the end of the meal most of the containers were empty, even the squid, and they were very full. Severus leaned back in his chair, groaning, his eyes closed in repletion, "Oh, that was wicked. I don't think I could stuff in another morsel."

"Not even a fortune cookie?" Harry asked, his voice barely containing his excitement.

Severus opened a lid and noticed the spark in Harry's eyes but said nothing except, "Fortunate Cookie?"

"No, Fortune Cookie--A folded cookie that has a fortune--a divination, if you will, baked into it."

"Oh." Severus tried to sound disappointed. "And here I thought it meant I would be fortunate to get the cookie down after such a splendid meal."

Ignoring his comment with a smile, Harry asked, "Want to try one? They're not very big." He held one out to Severus.

"It's green," he observed, gingerly taking it and holding the twice folded cookie in his palm. "Is it supposed to be green?" He shook it and it rattled. 

Harry laughed, "They come in different colours, green is for good joss--you know, good luck."

Severus nodded sagely. "Ah, and what does one do with such a fortunate cookie?"

"Break it open and read the message inside." Harry was sitting on the edge of his seat.

_'Definitely up to something, but it's good to see him so animated.'_ He took the hard cookie and gently broke it at the main seam. The two halves left over still rattled, but his interest was in the slip of paper sticking out of one side. He pulled it out and, setting the two halves back on a small side plate on the table, read in Harry's best scrawl:

_Someone loves you very much_. He smiled and turned it over. _Will you make vows with me?_

Time stood still for Severus. Bereft of words, he thought, _'Well, I'll be damned--he beat me to it. And I'm still not ready. What can I say to him? How do I tell him 'no' and not hurt him? How can I make him see I am not hiding things from him, that the opportunity to tell him just hasn't come up?'_ He raised shadowed eyes to Harry, mute in his dilemma.

Harry rose from his seat. Severus could see from Harry's confusion that his reaction was not exactly what he'd foreseen. Severus rose with him and they stood on opposite sides of the table, their eyes locked and searching. _'No, my reticence is not what he envisioned, although surely he could not have expected an effusion of sentiment, either?'_

Harry slowly walked around the table never breaking his eyes away until he stood before him. _'He's scared he's read me wrong or perhaps is asking too soon--this would be so much easier were that the case.'_ Severus opened his mouth to speak when Harry picked up the two pieces of cookie left on the small plate, handing one of them to his lover. "Open this end, Sev," he ordered quietly.

Nonplussed, Severus delicately broke the seam of the surprisingly hard cookie at the same time Harry broke his. Lying there in his palm, amidst the sharp scent of anise, was a ring. A five strand woven Celtic ring with two hands clasped in the middle. Different than a Claddagh, the outer rings, in the shape of slender snakes he immediately recognised, were woven in and out of the other three. 

He turned the ring over and spied the removable pin in the bottom holding the rings in place. When he pulled it, all five broke apart to reveal a central band with a heart hidden by the two hands forming the two inner bands. He'd heard of such rings before; they were Gaelic marriage bands--very old and very rare. He reassembled them with ease and slipped the pin back in place feeling the 'click' in the magic of the heavy gold.

"A Gimmal Ring? Where ever did you find these?" he asked, still thinking fast.

Harry nodded. "The three original inner bands belonged to my parents--they were their nuptial rings and belonged to my father's family. I had the previous magic removed to make them ours. The outer two I had added--I saw the snakes on a glyph I found in town but was not fast enough to buy." He hesitated. Eyeing Severus' stoical reaction he asked shakily, "Severus, you don't mind they were my parents' rings, do you?"

Severus gave it due consideration. Eventually, he said, "I admit it does bother me a bit, but not enough to object. I suppose if their mark was still on them, I might, but I would say you have made them unique; they're actually quite handsome." He could see Harry was still not convinced. "Harry, I would hope you know me well enough by now to know that the type and style of the rings, as long as they're not overly gaudy, truly do not matter to me. And your apparent pleasure in using them has no small influence on my feelings about them; if you are satisfied with them, then I am as well."

He put the full force of his truth into his words. Harry relaxed a bit and seemed content as he picked up the matching bands from his palm and broke them apart at the pin. He removed the heart, and set it aside from the others. He reassembled the rings, the magic pin reshaping itself to the new thickness. He indicated Severus should do the same thing, which he did, handing the heart to Harry once separate. Harry pulled out a third pin from his pocket and fastened the two hearts together, tops facing each other and held them up looking at them.

"I found out the hidden hearts are not added until the final bonding." He touched the other two sets. "The remaining bands serve as handfasting rings." He raised hopeful eyes to Severus again and whispered earnestly, "Say you'll wear them, Severus. Say you'll make vows with me. Show me, please, that we'll never have to doubt again. Tell me you love me as much as I love you."

_'Oh gods, this is not fair. I'm still not ready. I'd thought I'd have some time to prepare.'_ Severus bent his head and kissed him briefly, his heart pounding with regret. "I do love you, Harry, but I cannot promise forever. Not yet. There are--matters--we must discuss before we can decide--"

"You're saying 'no'?" Harry asked, his face falling, his heart breaking in his eyes. "But I thought--" His voice trailed off with a wealth of conflicting emotions; his eyes closed.

While he did not appreciate the interruption, Severus understood it. He gently took Harry, unresisting, into his arms and kissed his eyelids. Harry lowered his head and curled it on his chest. Severus' low dulcet tones washed over him, trying to sooth Harry as his words could not. "Harry, _please_, don't make this any harder than it already is. I _do_ love you and would like nothing more than to make vows with you. Do you _hear_ me, Harry?" He felt Harry's nod against his chest, his arms tightening around him. 

Severus ran his hand over Harry's unruly hair, fingering the soft strands as he tried to still his pounding heart. "I _need_ you to really listen and put aside your frustration for a moment--_I have **not** said, 'no'. I have said '**not yet**'_. There is a difference, you know, small as it may seem. We must talk first."

Harry pulled away enough to raised questioning eyes to him. Severus tried to read their depths and regretted the fearful worry he saw there. "I do not mean to reject you," he murmured, bending his head to taste him, to try and erase the hurt without words.

Harry responded to the kiss, his body melting into him the way it always did when they exchanged one of their serious kisses. Severus had once likened it to the melding of ingredients within his simmering cauldrons--each separate until the heat and fire made something new, something whole, something _more_. It was not meant to arouse, although it often did. It was rather a reassurance, a reaffirmation of themselves, their togetherness. Both drew strength from it and when this one ended, Severus could see Harry felt calmer, less panicked, more ready to listen.

"What is it we need to talk about, Severus?" Harry asked, his body pliant against him.

He kissed his forehead, his nose edging the hair out the way so he could kiss the scar, something he rarely did, but was his way of telling Harry how serious he was. "_We're_ not warded yet. We must be _before_ we can commit to anything." 

"Ward? As in a deflection spell?" Harry asked puzzled, pulling away. When Harry touched his scar, Severus could feel his unease. 

"No, ward as in _protection_," he replied calmly, knowing he was about get a mouthful of Harry's ire.

He was right. Harry's quick temper was pricked. "Severus, I am _not_ a child, I do NOT need your protection." He moved away, standing separate, his eyes wary.

"Perhaps _you_ do not, but _WE_ do." Severus was not flustered by the reaction nor by Harry's sudden distance. He walked over to a side table in the sitting room and opened a shallow drawer. Reaching in, he pulled out a long flat package and tucked it into his pocket after shutting it quietly. Turning to Harry, he said mildly, "Come, I've something to show you." He led Harry, mystified but still defiant, through their quarters to stand at the back of his study. "Stand here, please. I've never revealed this to anyone before, excepting Albus; the place knows him," he added cryptically.

Concentrating, he brought down the external wards to the private library, revealing a hidden door that opened on its own. With the way he stiffened, he knew Harry could feel the staggering dark power contained within. They stood at the entrance to the huge room with its orderly rows of overflowing shelves and the large desk in the middle, but they did not enter; Severus gently barred his way. "I have been collecting these for nearly 30 years. They represent almost the total sum of Dark Arts knowledge ever printed, ever recorded. I have read every volume in here, committed many to memory."

Harry was incredulous and not a little angry. "It's been here all this time and I didn't know about it? Didn't _feel_ it? As strong as it is? How is that possible?"

Severus sighed, barely containing his impatience at Harry's insistent questions. "It's heavily protected against intrusion. Many of these books contain traps to catch the unwary and untrained. Until we re-ward it, you cannot access it and I would advise not trying to read its _Schema_--this whole section of the castle would be destroyed if anyone other than Dumbledore or I were to try and open it." 

Harry took a step back; Severus silently lauded his caution. "Albus forbade me from telling you about it as long as Voldemort was alive and afterwards, there was no need to access it. In the last five years it has only been opened twice, once before we were together and the other--you were not here at the time--"

"Did you come here when you looked up the potion--to save my life from Draco?" It was Severus' turn to stare. Harry twisted his lips wryly. "No you've not _told_ me, but it _is_ a part of your nightmares. I assumed you wanted it quiet so I've said nothing, but I loved you more for it." He narrowed his eyes, suddenly dangerous. "Why _did_ you come here the last time?"

Severus took his hand and they stared into the room. "I came here the last time, over a year ago, to look up information on The Veil." He cleared his throat, and irony lowered his tone. "Had I known of your mastery, I would have shown it to you two years ago, as it was--" He said no more, and Harry relaxed. "I did not keep it from you on purpose."

When Harry failed to reply, Severus continued, "When I do research here, as you will too someday, I work with a series of cautionary wards, the most important of which is embedded in the center of that table. It keeps me from being drawn into the texts, keeps me intact and works through another series of Summoning spells should I fail to respond."

"What type of summoning spells?" Harry asked, intrigued despite his ire.

"Hmmm. Albus designed them. One of the spells chimes, for lack of a better word, at regular intervals of about 15 minutes apart. If I fail to answer it with a specific counterspell, then Albus is notified there is a problem and can come down and break whatever thrall I'm in."

"Has he ever had to do so?"

"Only once. I was a damn fool and in a hurry. I forgot to activate the ward in the table and the book snared me in less than 5 minutes. Fortunately, the Summoning spell is set to automatically notify Albus should I ever do anything that stupid, which at the time I thought a bit overprotective, but nonetheless, he got to me before the book could melt my brain into jelly."

Curiosity coloured his voice as Harry asked, "What's embedded in the table?"

_'Well, here's another rough spot I'm ill-prepared for,'_ he thought, near panic himself even as he calmly said, "It's a talisman given to me by Mecadia when we first became lovers while I was taking my Mastery. He wanted me _protected_, as you say, because he was worried about the 'situation' I found myself in. He wouldn't let me give him any protection in return, saying he needed it not. He could take care of himself. Does this sound vaguely familiar?"

Harry neatly sidestepped the implicit admonishment by saying, "I know you've talked of him as your best friend at Hogwarts, and you speak to him sometimes in your dreams as more than that, but I never asked, not wanting to pry. He _is_ in your past?" Harry asked with some trepidation.

Severus was touched by the question and by the privacy Harry always gave him. He suspected Harry was wondering if his past relationship with Mecadia was why Severus had turned him down. He could feel the implied rejection still stung, but Harry was trying very hard not to show it. 

He hastened to reassure him. "Very much in my past. I loved him but, unfortunately, not enough. We were only together a year before he--died."

At Harry's startled face, he realised Harry didn't know Mecadia was dead--a small detail he'd forgot to mention somewhere in their talks. Kicking himself for the unintentional omission, he kissed him briefly on the cheek. "I am sorry, I thought I'd told you this."

"Must have slipped your mind," Harry said wryly, his eyebrow raised in relieved amusement over Severus' discomfort.

Severus cleared his throat, swallowing his retort to say instead, "I should close this room. We've no need of it and to leave it open like this, unprotected, is tempting fate." He waved his wand again with a guttural spell and the wall shimmered back into its plain stone face, the concealing wards back in place, sealing the room.

Taking Harry's hand, he said, "Come, let's sit and finish this."

**** TBC ****


	47. Part V Burning Cold and Hot

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part V : Together  
**Chapter Forty Seven : Burning Cold and Hot**

**14 August 2003** Continued

They went to the small couch in the study and faced each other, legs overlapping.

Severus took Harry's hands in his, studying his face, his eyes earnest. "You and I both work with forces sometimes outside our control, you more so than I now with your healing, although that may not always be the case. As you delve deeper into the Dark Arts to heal those hurt by it, you will need to access the library many times to expand your knowledge of what you encounter."

Harry looked thoughtful, but said nothing.

Surprised at his silence, Severus continued. "Trust me--as your reputation grows, so will the obscurity of the spells used to incapacitate. Lucius is still loose; he has a corresponding library much like this one he maintained for Voldemort, although it is not as complete. Lucius grows more powerful, his followers strong, their numbers subtly increasing. Determined to prevail, they will be a thorn in our sides for many years to come."

Harry nodded. "I'd not thought of that, but you're right." He sighed.

Severus cut to the crux of the matter. "They want us both dead. They will hurt people just to get to you, Harry, and to me. They'll try to ensnare you with the magic they use on their victims. This is how they caught Mecadia; he had some--unique--talents he'd gained from his studies; Lucius used his family bond to obtain his magic for Voldemort and made me the unwitting carrier of the curse that killed him. In the end, his stubbornness about protection coupled with his ignorance of his brother's depravity destroyed him."

He bowed his head, his heart hurting all over again at the thought of his old friend and how short his existence had been. Harry tightened his hold on his hands and waited him out. Severus was heartened by the contact.

Severus raised his head, his eyes shining bright. "I will _not_ abide them doing so to us. Mecadia's talisman will not protect you, nor will it protect me anymore should we marry. Hear me well, Harry. I cannot make vows with you until you agree to this, to our warding. I cannot stand by and see you destroyed the way Mecadia was, not if I could have prevented it. I love you too much--it would be more than I could bear."

Harry raised his hand and cupped Severus' cheek. "What do we need to do?" he asked quietly, his acceptance in his eyes. "As I told you in Hana, I want no doubts, no secrets anymore. I just want to love you my whole life--nothing more, nothing less. Tell me what I have to do to set your mind at ease."

With immense relief at Harry's unequivocal acquiescence, he stood and pulled Harry up with him. They were close and it was all Severus could do to keep from taking him in his arms and never letting go. "Now?" he asked quietly. "Are you ready now?"

Harry chuckled and said jokingly, "Is it going to hurt? I might need a few minutes to prepare for that, but otherwise I'm ready."

_'If it does, it will hurt only me,'_ Severus thought, not sure _he_ was prepared, but there was no helping it. Harry knew about the library now; it was imperative he be protected from it and allowed free, safe access. _'This much I will allow me.'_ He ran his thumb gently over the tops of his fingers. "No, I don't think so, although the spell says it will leave its mark on us."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry demanded, suspicious of Severus' hesitation and shrug. "You're never ignorant of the outcome of any spell before you cast it. You're backsliding, Sev," he gently chided.

"Perhaps, but speculation is not the same thing as knowledge; the spells I examined are unclear as to what it means. They only agree there will be a 'physical mark' left on each of us." He tilted his head. "There is no mention of discomfort, only an exchange--it can't be too bad, or it would have been noted."

Reading Harry well he added, "And no, I do not know what kind of 'exchange'. The spells are purposely vague as the form is different with each casting, that much was clear also. I promise, I'm not being deliberately obtuse; the spell is doing that just fine all by itself."

Harry smiled, apparently satisfied.

Severus reached into his robes and pulled out the box he'd placed there earlier. "Seems I was inadvertently prepared for this moment. I have something for us."

Harry opened the package with all the abandon of a child on his birthday, paper flying. Severus smiled as he opened the wooden box and gasped. Nestled in purple silk was the gold glyph from Mr. Langley's shop, the one the rings were modelled after. A heavy, round serpent chain was threaded through the twisted loop on the top. He pulled it out of the box, holding it up to admire it in the light.

He raised wondering eyes to Severus. "How did you--?"

Severus grinned. "I didn't until I saw the rings. That's what makes irony such a wonderful thing."

Harry made to throw his arms around him, but Severus stopped him. "I'm sorry, Harry, not until we're finished. Once the commitment is made to perform the spell, casual contact must be minimized to maintain the spell's potency." At the disappointed look on Harry's face, he ruefully laughed and said, "I know, waiting until later severely taxes my restraint as well."

Harry defied the stricture a little by running his fingers lightly down Severus' cheek. "I was not intending 'casual' contact." Severus shivered at his touch.

Leisurely taking the hand from his face, he stood and pulled Harry with him to the center of his study. Holding his wand, he intoned, "_Supellectilis Leviosa_," and levitated the desk off of the rug, moving it to the side of the room. "The focal point of the wards is under the rug where Dumbledore set them." He shrugged and lightly laughed, "Makes for an inconvenient place for my desk, but he was stubborn about it."

Harry chuckled wryly. "He gets that way sometimes."

Severus echoed him, saying, "Indeed he does." He gently pulled on Harry's hand to place them in the center of the wards; they could feel the leashed power under their feet.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked him, his face serious and devoid of any emotion. Severus knew then he was preparing himself and approved. Severus knelt where he stood and tugging, asked him to join him, which he did, a few inches of air separating them.

With steady hands, Severus undid the buttons on Harry's shirt, explaining as he did so, "The spell is _Sanos_ based and the conditions say we must place the talisman between us, skin-to-skin, to make the shared mark. Most people choose the inner arm of their dominant hand, but since mine is already occupied--" he grimly thought of the faint dark mark still present on his forearm, "and, in any event, it is far too easy to see there--this location, in the middle of the chest, will be better. We're kneeling because it's more stable than standing." He tugged the shirt out of Harry's trousers until it was loose and open. He then unfastened the cuffs. Without touching his skin, he peeled it off of him, leaving Harry bare-chested. He threw the shirt to the side by the desk.

Harry shivered a bit, despite the warmth of the room. He lifted his hands, still holding the glyph, and began to remove Severus' shirt for him. "The location seems all right. I just wish we knew what kind of mark it will make." He continued unbuttoning the shirt. "Severus, the wards are making my scar tingle. Is this normal?"

Severus was thoughtful as the warm air touched more of him, button by button. "I don't know, but I don't see where it will make a difference. There is a balance of magic in the wards, perhaps your scar is reacting to the dark magic."

Unbuttoning the cuffs and taking the same care not to touch Severus' skin, Harry nodded. "Could be--actually, that makes sense. I often thought it reacted more to Voldemort's use of magic than his person, and it always ached whenever anyone used Dark Magic, including myself." He paused to pull the tails out of Severus' trousers. Removing the shirt, he continued, "I mean, it never twinged if Voldemort was using a mundane spell." Harry eyed him, a sudden thought travelling across his face. "He did use everyday magic, didn't he?"

Severus chuckled. "Oh yes, he did and was even known, on rare occasion, to miserly employ a cleaning spell--but usually only after Nagini complained about the stench."

Harry smiled. "Now what?" he asked, back on task.

Quietly, Severus said, "Hold out the amulet, I need to open it to take the ward." Harry did so, the chain across one hand, the glyph in the other. Severus tucked his wand in the band of his trousers. He held out his hands over the glyph and felt for the _Schema_. Confused, he couldn't find it. _'There has to be one. Every piece of power has one.'_

He was about to ask Harry, who'd been watching him closely, if he could read it when Harry echoed his words to the shopkeeper, "It's an _Iugia Proeliator Schema_--it's all I could sense out if it before in the shop."

Severus nodded his thanks. "Impressive as always." He dove deep into it, not noticing the pleased surprise on Harry's face. Finally locating the _Schema_ he studied it for a moment, easily recalling his notes made years before, thinking, _'Damn, why does it have to be Gaelic? Always sounds like infant-speak after I get done mangling it.'_ He laughed a bit and at Harry's raised brow said, "Gaelic. I hate it."

Harry shook his head, "I know none, so I'll be impressed for both of us, all right?" Severus smiled.

Still holding his hands over it he intoned, "_Leig ris e seun_." Nothing happened for a moment and about the time he was beginning to wonder if he'd pronounced it right, the gold began to glow with an inner light. At a gesture from Severus' hands, it rose and hung in the air between them before looping over Harry's head to settle squared on the center of his breastbone.

"The Glyph is old and has never been cast. There will be two wards spoken--one of them yours, the other mine. It's ready to receive our wards. I'm ready to cast them. Are you?" he asked Harry.

"Why is there only one--?" Harry stopped and shrugged. Severus knew he'd been about to ask why there was no second talisman for Severus if they were both to be protected. He was about to explain about the marks again when Harry nodded and asked, "What do you need me to do?"

"Come here." With arms extended, Severus and Harry met in the middle, bodies pressed close together, skin to skin, heart to heart, the glyph warm between them. Severus whispered the spoken ward he was to say in Harry's ear, tickling it, telling him they needed to say it together.

They held the embrace while Severus took what comfort he could against what he suspected would follow. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and cried, "_Dìon m'leannan_!" over Harry's simultaneous fiat, _Defendo Maritas_!.

The two wards exploded through them. Severus knew that to Harry the spell was freezing, like shards of raw ice, glacial, making him shiver violently although he did not let go. He would be feeling Severus' strong power, Severus' essence flowing through him, through his veins, joining with his magic to eventually make a temperate clime within him. _'And if mine is like ice then his will be--'_

Fire. Burning through him. Excruciating, powerful fire, overwhelming him. He'd suspected Harry's magic would burn, would rend him before his could recover and infuse. And he'd not been wrong. He felt Harry's arms holding him tight against him, his own face buried on Harry's shoulder as he rode the magic within, trying to cool the heat with his own cold magic. Eventually, he felt it subside, meld, join him. It was over, the wards securely in place. His chest hurt. _'That was almost like getting the Dark Mark, only much less painful.'_

They clasped each other, sweat slicking their bodies, their hearts beating as one, their minds at peace. Harry's awareness of his surroundings returned with the prickling of his healing senses, and he suddenly _felt_ the pain in Severus' chest. Concerned, he pulled away and, looking down, sucked in his breath on a long hiss. In the identical place the amulet hung on him was the burned image of it on Severus' chest. The skin was raw and blistered, the shape and figures on the amulet clear to the finest detail, only etched forcibly in his skin. He caught Severus' weary eye. "You _knew_ this would happen, didn't you?" he accused, horrified.

"No," he replied honestly, "but I strongly suspected it would. As I told you, the spell said it would leave its mark. And it did; it's a perfect match to yours. Look." Severus lifted the heavy glyph and released it from its chain by removing the loop with a careful spell, leaving the wards they'd buried deep within it undisturbed. He held the warmed gold piece in his hand; the heavy chain remained intact where it hung around Harry's neck. He fancied he could feel the extra weight of the spells captured within.

Harry looked down at his own chest and saw an identical raised scar down to the last detail shining ghostly pale against his tanned skin--a mirror image born of ice.

Severus' fingers tingled where he traced the edges of it. "No one can remove this protection from us by taking the amulet. They'll have to carve it out." He shuddered, shying away from the gruesome pictures his statement made.

Harry grimaced. "Now there's a cheery thought."

Severus rose unsteadily to his feet, Harry following. He winced when the skin of his chest pulled with the movement and sighed, resigned to the discomfort for a while longer. There was a topical potion he could use afterwards to deaden the pain while it healed. "We're not done yet. We still need to set the talisman into the library's wards."

Walking up to the wall hiding the entrance, he once again dropped the wards revealing the door. Once opened, he preceded Harry into the room. Harry staggered the last few steps up to the table; Severus reached out, steadying him. "Scar hurts?" he asked solicitously.

"And how. It's quite overwhelming." Severus could hear his teeth grind against the pain, his hand futilely rubbing his scar which, for the first time in more than four years, burned an ugly, familiar red.

Worried and contrite, he murmured, "My apologies, Harry. I didn't realise the room would affect you in this manner, or I would have warned you beforehand. It must be Voldemort's hand-written texts causing the problem. We'd best hurry now."

They stood side by side at the table in the center of the room, Harry swaying with the effort to control his wild reaction to the contents of the room. Severus pulled his wand out of the waistband of his trousers. At his spoken "_Liberatio_," the gold talisman in the center of the black stone working surface flashed and popped out, rolling like a coin when flipped.

Severus pushed it aside for the moment and placed their glyph in the exact same place. He guided Harry's unresisting hand to one side, Severus' fingers held it on the other. "We say the wards together." At their simultaneous commands the glyph glowed, it was both hot and cold to the touch, and sank into the stone until slightly recessed. Severus removed his hand slowly as did Harry. The talisman was fixed in place.

Harry sagged against him in relief and then straightened, standing on his own. "Ah, much better. One does not truly appreciate the absence of pain until it's gone."

"All too true," Severus said with a relieved smile when he saw that, while a little swollen, Harry's scar was almost back to normal. "No one can see the amulet but us, and of course, Albus. I was so afraid it would disappear--the spell was vague on that point as well--it's such a beautiful piece--I would have not liked losing it."

Harry ran his fingers over it in appreciation. "Yes, it is lovely; it's ironic we both wanted it," he chuckled, "although for different reasons; I thought to have it made into a clasp for your formal robes. This is much better."

Severus briefly considered the dangers inherent in giving anyone an empty amulet of this power, but forbore to mention it--now was not the time for a lesson or a mild admonishment. Instead he said, "I concur. The glyph is best held by those who can truly appreciate its full value. To use the library safely, all you need do is touch the talisman and repeat your Ward."

Harry nodded. "Seems easy enough. What are the other spells I need to know?"

Severus blinked. "Hmmm. I think we'll need to talk to Albus about the nature of the spells he devised. I'm not sure they will work for you as they were made for me. I'm sure he can either tell us if they will protect both, or else he can just create some new ones for you. Either way, we'll not be using the contents tonight." He picked up Mecadia's talisman from the table. "Come, we should probably close this room up now until we know for certain."

Harry agreed and they were soon back in the study, Harry closing the wards behind them. Indecision in his eyes, his face neutral, he held out his hand. Confused only for a moment, Severus placed Mecadia's talisman in the outstretched hand, resisting the urge to snatch it back. Harry blinked hard and examined the tiny piece. Smaller than a Galleon, the front was embossed with two serpents intimately entwined over the crest of the Slytherin House wrought in the finest detail. The back was smooth except for the words, "My dearest Severus" engraved deeply. Harry balanced the coin on his fingertips. He said softly, "He never intended to protect himself, did he?"

Muted, Severus' tone spoke of his reluctance to respond. "No, I don't believe so. He was a scholar, learned, more arrogant in his intellectual confidence than I. But blind. He never dreamt anyone would be interested in capturing the fruits of his research, certainly not his brother, the wastrel."

"And you loved him," he stated, not asked.

Bowing his head, Severus replied, "Yes, I did."

Harry was silent, still. Then, "You never told him?"

Severus ground out one anguished word. "No."

Harry closed his eyes. Severus chanced a glance at him, surprised by the stark sadness on Harry's face. Harry opened them and Severus suddenly found himself lost in their green depths. He barely registered that Harry took the talisman and placed a soft kiss on the front of it. He then took Severus' hand and, placing it in his palm, he tenderly closed the long elegant fingers over it. "Remind me someday, when I am about to pass beyond, to thank Mecadia for taking such good care of you."

Stunned, Severus stared at him. He looked one last time at the object in his hand and pocketed it. He took a deep breath, saying, "I'll remember."

Harry smiled. He leaned into Severus for a kiss; Severus hissed in pain when their chests met.  
  
"Oh, I am sorry. I forgot," Harry said contritely. Perplexed, he asked, "Sev, why did yours burn you so badly? Mine didn't hurt a bit."

Switching mental tracks, Severus put the last few minutes behind him for further thought and replied, "It has to do with our natures, Harry. We are and have always been opposites. The spell I chose depended on us being two sides of the same coin, just like the two sides to the glyph. You burn with fiery Gryffindor passion, I with cold Slytherin calculation. There was an exchange involved, much like the _Sanos_ spells." He said gently, "Harry, I accepted a long time ago your magic is--while I won't say stronger, it is--different--than mine. Had you laboured with mine, the way I struggled with yours, you too would have been burned, only by the cold."

A myriad of thoughts flitted across Harry's mobile face as he digested Severus' explanation; he nodded his understanding. "Please, Sev, let me heal yours," he said earnestly, stretching out his hand. "Most of what I do does not require the _Sanos_. I can at least take away the pain."

Severus hesitated only an instant. "That would be pleasant and much faster than the potion I had in mind. Thank you."

Harry pulled him back to the rug. They knelt apart, sitting on their heels, knees almost touching. Severus knew Harry probably shouldn't be doing this; healing magic on loved ones or family, while not forbidden, was not encouraged either. Harry stretched out his hand and held it over the wound on Severus' chest, cupping his hand so it didn't touch it but made contact on the skin around the edges.

Severus sucked in some air; it still hurt, even where Harry had his hand, just like any burn would. He _felt_ Harry pull in his magic and release it, ever so slowly, one bit at a time as it trickled into the wound. Harry was careful and just as the pain stopped and Severus relaxed, he let up on the spell and removed his hand.

It was perfect; Harry'd not obliterated it--the scar was silvery white against his light tan and slightly raised. It flashed on his chest when the light hit it right, each detail down to the scales present but was invisible when not looked for.

"Very nicely done," Severus said looking down on it.

"It's beautiful." Harry breathed, tracing the raised edges with his fingertip and then kissed it. "Just like you--hidden from everyone but me."

Severus went still inside. With purpose, he put his arms around his intended, relishing the sensuous weight of Harry's arms as they slid around him, his skin still sensitive from the wards. Eye to eye, black to green, he said, "Yes, Harry Potter, I will make vows with you." And not waiting for a reply, he kissed him.

They sank to the floor, the rug cushioning their happy tangled bodies until late into the night. And when they finally staggered into bed for sleep, the carpet was well and truly christened.

* * *

**16 August 2003**

Two mornings later, while Harry was gone to Diagon Alley to shop for dress robes, Severus took out an ornately carved wooden box he kept hidden in his old, battered school trunk deep in the back of the closet. Holding the talisman, he called to mind the ink stained fingers already stiffening with the swelling disease from hours of scratching exhaustive notes on rolls of fine parchment. He could clearly see the squint lines around Mecadia's dark grey eyes from working long hours into the night with inadequate light, eyes that would soften whenever Severus interrupted him for such mundane things like food and sleep, and the comfort that came before it. Such innocent pleasures that could ease, for the small moments they lasted, the horrors so much a part of his life at the time.

He placed his lips on the cold metal and for a brief instant remembered the sweet, absentminded kisses Mecadia used to give him, his attention, more often than not, on his books and studies rather than his lover. Yet he could almost taste Harry there now as well. Severus opened the box and lightly ran his fingers over the neat stacks of letters and other small trinkets--they were all that was left of his former lover, all other traces of him, even his name, erased by a family who never truly understood the man's worth. Without hesitation he placed Mecadia's talisman with those other mementos of a former life, closed the lid, and put the box back in his trunk with no further regrets.

* * *

_Leig ris e seun_ = Open the charm  
_Defendo Maritas_! and _Dìon m'leannan_! - Protect my Lover!

* * *

TBC


	48. Part V Morning Interruptions

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part V : Together  
**Chapter Forty Eight : Morning Interruptions**

**15 August 2003**

Severus Snape, for once, was thoroughly enjoying his breakfast. While the food was of the same quality, in the same quantity, and even brought by the same house-elves it always was, today it was--better. Like everything else he'd experienced since awakening, the textures were crisper, the tastes sharper, the colours brighter. 

He was in a most unusual mood. McGonagall's inane chatter with Sprout down the table from him didn't make him want to stalk out or choke them; even Dumbledore's little whistles as he read his morning mail didn't set his teeth on edge like they normally did. The small smattering of students scattered across the long tables in odd pairs and triplets didn't make him long for new ways to torment them; in fact he almost looked forward to his afternoon tutouring sessions. 

Yes, this morning was different and the reason for this heightened mellowness sat next to him chatting up Flitwick. Harry was laughing at one of Flitwick's tired old jokes, dragged out for a new audience, while Harry's hand nonchalantly slid under the tablecloth, like he was scratching an itch; the only thing relieved was Severus' thigh. He calmly sipped his tea, although he really wanted to squirm in his chair as Harry's pinkie made its way up to a more sensitive place than the top of his leg. He never turned from Flitwick, telling a really bad story of his own, but Severus could feel the secret grin in the strokes of Harry's hand.

About the time he thought he would jump out of his trouse, the hand hastily withdrew and Severus was treated to the wickedest pair of green eyes ever to grace the head table. "Horny little beggar, aren't you? Didn't get enough this morning?" Severus asked quietly, his--leg--still tingling from where Harry had been playing with it.

Harry chortled just as quietly, "I seem to recall someone saying that 'Once is never enough', and although I'll allow you were quite inventive this morning, well, I've a mind to--"

"Severus!" Professor Sprout's voice calling down the table to him dissolved the decadent pictures in his head. "Se-ver-us!" 

The object of her address winced and lifted an eyebrow at Harry ruefully. "We'll finish this delightful exchange in a moment," he whispered and turned impatiently to face the interruptor. He schooled his face into a drab polite mask. "Yes, Pomona?"

"Goodness, you're distracted this morning!" she exclaimed in a coy manner. He gritted his teeth waiting for the rest of it. "Minerva and I were wondering if you were going to need anything for the _Mabon_ festivities this year. I have a lovely patch of autumn grass almost ready to harvest among some other things; if you require anything for the potions, I need to know now or else I'll be Owling the lot off to Barton's."

Severus sighed. He'd forgot about the Autumnal Equinox potions he'd promised Sprout earlier in the year in exchange for the fresh Mandrake Root he'd needed to unpetrify Horatio after the curious snake had found a baby basilisk in the dungeons. He ignored Harry's chuckle--they'd had a devil of time collecting the 'infant' snake (which had been almost as long as Horatio) without hurting it or them. He had no idea what Dumbledore had done with it, but was assured it was healthy and living elsewhere. "No, I have already procured all the ingredients, although fresh is always best. Let me see a list of what you have and I'll tell you what I can use. I don't think it will require all of your stock, so you can still send some off."

Sprout promised to have the list to him on the morrow; he forebore to tell her he might be delayed in perusing it; he wouldn't know until later, after he had a chance to talk to Dumbledore.

Seeing her make a comment to Minerva, he turned back and, drawing breath, started to continue his previous conversation with an empty seat. Hearing the soft sound of the staff door closing behind him, he knew without a doubt who had just exited. _'Annoying brat,'_ he thought, wondering why he'd left so precipitously.

His thoughts were interrupted when Dumbledore stood from the table, signalling that breakfast was over. Severus rose as well, bent on catching up to Albus before their morning routines kept them busy. He had a favour to ask.

Halfway up the deserted hallway he managed to stop Dumbledore; for an old man, he moved fast. "Albus, a moment of your time, please," he called out, walking quickly up to him, robes swirling around him. 

Dumbledore wheeled around at his voice, his face lighting with a pleasant smile. "Certainly, Severus. How can I be of service this morning?"

_'An apt choice of words,'_ Snape thought. "I was wondering--"

"Albus, don't forget that the letters to the Ministry and the Board of Governors with the final student count and the list of scholarship recipients are due this afternoon. Are you finished with them yet?" McGonagall asked as she rushed to his side. She nodded in mute apology to the Potions Master.

Severus seethed with impatience while Dumbledore replied, "Yes, my dear. I left them on your desk before breakfast. You may send them out at your convenience." 

While Albus chuckled, Severus thought the whole exchange inane. _'How many years have I been watching this very same scene. Minerva is nothing if not efficient and a right pain in the bum. I just wish--'_

His thoughts were interrupted with Dumbledore's implied censure when he politely inquired, "Minerva, is there anything else you require at _this_ time?"

Snape's guts roiled with her hesitation. _'Of course there's 'one more thing'. She can't make anything simple.'_ However, the determined squint around the Headmaster's equally jovial eyes remained and McGonagall's subsequent confusion amused Severus. He could almost see the squeaky wheels grinding as she considered his question. He found her dawning realisation that she'd misjudged the importance of his and the Headmaster's conversation immensely satisfying.

Catching Snape's continued glare, she stammered to him, "I--ah--I'm sorry to have disturbed your--" She turned back to the Headmaster, wisely saying, "No, I believe it can wait."

"Good, I am glad to hear it." The hint of a battle won in the Headmaster's voice made Snape turn his head away to hide his smile. "I will see you after your morning sessions, then?"

Nodding, she left them and went on to her first student of the day.

Albus straightened the front of his robe in a _'so there'_ gesture and started walking to his office waiting an instant for Snape to fall in beside him. "I'm sorry, Severus. What did you need?"

Nervous again, he started, "Harry and I," and stopped when Remus almost barrelled into him in his haste. Breathless, as if he'd run all the way from his rooms, which he probably had, he called, "Oh, there you are, Severus! I've been looking for you. I know you've no sessions this morning and was wondering if you could take over my Defense Against the Dark Arts students for me in the Second Period."

While Snape secretly approved of Albus' latest attempt to raise the academic standard of the school by offering remedial tutouring during the last three weeks of August, he was not keen on taking anyone else's dullards. It went without saying that his student load was the lightest, but given he usually used the summer to make all the school's potions for the year, he would never be accused of being idle.

"A bit spare of explanation, Lupin," Snape growled, thoroughly annoyed; he was glad for an excuse to vent some of his growing frustration. "As much as I would like to help you, I have already completely scheduled my morning." At Remus' crestfallen look, Severus attempted sympathy and instead managed a smirk. "Perhaps with a little more warning next time, I might be of assistance." 

His smirk deepened as a new thought struck him. "However, I daresay two of your three morning students could use the windfall of time to finish the rather simple Potions assignment I gave them Friday last." He gave a disgusted sigh. "It is due this afternoon and if these efforts are anything like their last ones, they won't have started on them until today's lunch--I suppose it _would_ be too much to ask that they actually work on it over the weekend. Surely they can't get into _too_ much trouble in the library." He chuckled at the wily look Lupin gave him.

"Hmmm." Remus was thoughtful, his hand rubbing his lower face. Pointing and shaking his finger, he nodded and said, "Good idea--thanks for the suggestion." He dipped his head at Dumbledore, almost as an afterthought. "'Morning to you, Albus."

"And a good day to you, Remus," he said with a significant tilt of his head. 

Severus snorted at Remus' reaction to the clear dismissal--he turned on his heel and made a hasty retreat. Albus once again started walking. "Now, my dear boy, what was it you were trying to tell--"

"Professor Dumbledore!" Filch barged up to them, halting their progress, his coat covered in soot and ashes. "I must insist you do something about Peeves. He's made a ruddy mess of the--"

"Argus, not now." Dumbledore sighed, kindly impatient. A quick hidden flick of his wand cleared the mess off of the caretaker. "I am sure whatever it is Peeves has done now will only be topped by what he does tomorrow. Please take care of it as best you can, and I'll be along directly--as soon as I finish my conversation with Professor Snape."

Filch mumbled to himself as he sulked off, the ever-present Mrs. Norris at his heels. Albus sighed and resumed his sedate pace, Snape at his side.

"I think the fates are conspiring against me," Severus ruefully began. At the hand placed on his shoulder from behind, he whirled around, intent on scorching whomever it was for interrupting him this time. "What the hell do you--" He rocked back on his heels when he saw it was Harry. "Where the hell did you go?" he snapped instead.

Harry raised his brows and grinned at him, holding up a small leather case. "Bad morning already?"

******  
  
Dumbledore hid his smile by biting his lower lip. He'd seen Harry pelting down the hallway while dismissing Filch and given Severus' current impatience--_'Well, it's no large guess as to what they want, given the box Harry has and that huge surge of magic last night. But seeing Severus at a loss for words? This is more fun than I ever imagined.'_ He held back a misplaced desire to giggle. "Severus, maybe now we can get to the crux of what you wanted?"

Snape might still be fidgety, but the habitual edginess he always wore like a second skin was missing; the harshness was gone from his gaze, as were the small furrows normally lining his mouth and eyes. "We need to ask for a favour." He glanced at Harry and back at Dumbledore.

Albus, raising an enquiring brow at them, thought this a bit cheeky considering his ears still rang with their words of 'retribution' upon their return from Hana just nine days ago. 

Severus remained uncharacteristically quiet and Harry just grinned when their eyes met again. Dumbledore shook his head at them both. "Severus, are you going to tell me what it is you want, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?"

Harry smiled and in that moment, Dumbledore realised he'd never seen Harry truly happy before now. Triumphant, joyful, ecstatic even, but not like this. One could almost say he glowed with it, as if he had so much inside it had to come out or he would burst. 

Clearing his throat and looking around as if making sure they were alone, Severus said quietly, "If you're willing, we'd like you to handfast us." 

Knuckles whitening, Harry tightened his grip on Snape's shoulder. Wordlessly, he handed Dumbledore the case. "Sorry I'm late, Severus. I forgot this in our quarters and went back to get it."

"I wondered what had happened and thought you must have been called away. As it was, I only just now got the opportunity to speak to Albus," he replied dryly turning his attention back to the Headmaster.

Albus took the box in his hands and when the glistening rings were revealed, he found it hard to speak around the clog in his throat. His brows raising then lowering, he ran his fingertips gently across the familiar gold bands inside. Closing the case, he said, "I joined them, you know. I remember these rings well. I remember Lily's eyes when James slid them on her hand and the unaccustomed seriousness of his face. You've done a nice job modifying them."

He glanced surreptitiously at Severus, looking for his reaction. Given his and James' past history, Dumbledore was somewhat surprised Severus would be willing to use these particular rings, even though the signature and the binding magic in them had been removed and the new outer serpent bands added, making them anonymous and unique. However, Severus was as calm as ever and Dumbledore shrugged inside assuming Harry and Severus had already addressed the issue to their mutual satisfaction. He dismissed his thoughts.

He held their steady gazes. "I would be delighted to handfast you. I am assuming you will want to use the Closed Form?" At their murmurs of assent, he tucked the box into a pocket of his robes. "These rings will serve very well, indeed." He looked up from his pocket to see they weren't looking at him anymore but at each other. Severus looked so young. And Harry--his tranquility was almost tangible.

Harry reluctantly broke his brief interchange with Severus. He turned to Dumbledore, his eyes guileless and so open Albus could almost see through him; the Headmaster cleared his reaction out of his throat before asking, "Do you both have a moment? We will need to consult the orrery for the best day." At their unspoken agreement, he gestured for them to proceed at once.

****

Comfortable in the plush desk chair and sipping his scalding beverage, Dumbledore noted (as he always did) the ginger way they both blew across the top of their cups before sipping their tea cautiously. He knew he made the brew too hot and too strong; he liked it that way--it was one of the few things in which he indulged his pleasure over that of others. He hid his reaction to the coordinated movements--stir, blow, sip--their unintentional unison was quite amusing.

The case with the rings lay before him on his desk.

He rose from the chair and, opening a large cabinet behind him with leaded glass doors, pulled a small portable orrery off of a shelf. Placing it carefully on the desk and taking his seat, he waved his wand and spoke a complex incantation. With a sound of ground metal, the gold and bronze arms began to move, each at different speeds, making the balls on the end of them (which represented the planets in their orbits) turn in an uneven fashion around their prescribed courses. He watched it closely and when it stopped, he studied the azimuth readings inscribed in the base of the machine.

After assuring himself that all was in order, Dumbledore sat back and looked between them; he remembered the first time Harry and Severus had ever come to his office together. They'd come at his request to review the plans for Harry's private defence classes. He and Severus had worked long hours devising the eventually abandoned course of study for the young man, only 16 at the time. And now, the familiar sight of the two of them sitting across the desk from him was the same as ever and yet, oh so different.

"According to the movements, the best time for your handfasting is either the 12th of December, next year," Severus groaned, "or tomorrow night." He chuckled at the sudden look of relief on Harry's face echoed by the blowing sigh escaping his partner.

"Can we be ready by tomorrow night?" Harry asked humbly. "I confess, I've only read about what's involved in the ritual, but I've never actually attended one. I'm not familiar enough with the proceedings to know everything we need to do."

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "Oh, it's fairly simple. The Closed Form is not too long, but is quite formal. The responses are plain and ritualistic--unless, of course, there are modifications you wish to make?"

Severus shook his head. "No, we decided the traditional Form and ceremony are not too offensive, if a bit flowery. The Final Binding will definitely need some work, however. The ceremony is obviously skewed to a--" he paused delicately, "--heterosexual joining. We will need to do some modifications there as well as eradicating all the drivel about the deities. What else will we require for tomorrow evening?"

"You'll need witnesses, of course--at least two. And a place to have the ceremony. The rest I can easily supply; as the officiator, I will make the necessary Banns after the fact. Do you know whom you want to participate, other than each other, of course?" While solemn, his smile was in his eyes.

"We'd like to have Poppy there--you were both equally meddlesome." Severus reached across the arm of the chair and covered Harry's hand, his long fingers entwining in those beneath them. 

Harry spoke up, "We want to thank you, Albus--you and Poppy. The time we spent away in Hana finally led us back to each other." He winked at Severus who rolled his eyes at all the excess sentiment. "For good," Harry finished.

_And about bloody time, too,_ Albus thought. "I think I can arrange that. Anyone else?" 

Harry looked sheepish. "There are so many to choose from. For just the handfasting--" His voice trailed off. Severus shrugged.

With a small smile, Albus asked, "Then might I suggest just Remus and Moody? They also have been _meddling_, as you so aptly put it, for a very long time now as well."

"That's an excellent idea!" Harry exclaimed, happy to have a good solution. Remus, as his former guardian, was like family and he knew Moody was as close to a friend as Severus had other than Albus and himself. When he looked over to confirm, Severus looked pleased as well.

"Good. Now as to the place--as this is a private affair, I offer you the use of my private rooms for the brief ceremony along with a libation afterwards. Is this acceptable?"

Harry and Severus were stunned. In all the years they'd known each other, they'd never been to the Headmaster's private quarters. Irrepressible as always, Harry replied, "If I knew where they were, I'd say that was perfect."

Snape nodded his agreement.

"Excellent. That's settled, then." Dumbledore handed them a Portkey and a roll of parchment with the ritual outlined on it along with their expected responses. The box with the rings he placed in his desk drawer. "I'll see you tomorrow night. Oh, and you are most welcome."

****

"Are you sure you can do this?" Severus asked, a vague anxiety colouring his voice.

Harry's cheery reply did little to assuage his concern. "As sure as I am about anything, Sev. A _Schema_ is a _Schema_ is a _Schema_. And it worked on Luckless Lucy's portrait; she really likes the flowers we gave her."

Severus sniffed. "You gave her. I had little to do with it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Hardly. It was your idea and you were right about it as a test--if it works in Lucy's painting, it will probably work anywhere else. Poor girl. You'd think the artist would have removed at least that part of her personality. Then she could have been 'Lucky Lucy'."

"The artists can only paint what's there; they can't change the essence of the person in the portrait. Lucy had damnable luck in her lifetime and now she'll continue to have it over everyone else's, too. Truly shortsighted on her part, when you think on it, and certainly not something one wants to drag on forever." He looked around him. "Well, here we are. Damn, she's not home."

"Actually, Sev, it would be easier if she's not in the painting when I do it. There's less chance of an accident that way."

"Accident? What 'accident'? You didn't say anything about accidents. I don't want anything to happen to her."

"Calm down, Severus. They're very rare and only happen to those who lose control. The most that can happen is I change her portrait in such a way that it won't recognise her and she can't get back in. Fairly easy to fix--one just needs to replace the frame. If she's in her frame when I make the change, it could trap her, which is far worse and irreversible. I suspect that's what happened to Sirius' Mother's portrait--somebody probably tried to place a silencing spell and it backfired."

Severus narrowed his eyes and nodded. "All right then. Amazing that a healing spell could do this."

Harry seemed unfazed. "Well, a _Sanos_ spell is nothing more than exchanging one _Schema_ for another, so a simple swap of like objects shouldn't be a problem. You're sure of the painting's _Schemata_ before I get started?"

"Certainty? You know I can't give you that, Harry. The _Schemata_ I had in my notes are the ones the painter said he used. He primed the painting, I filled it; it required little to no _Schema_ work on my part since I was working with the person of the portrait over time. Everything else was dependent on the artist's magic and skill. You might want to double check it, though; I can't read the darn things as quickly and accurately as you do."

Once again Harry was struck by just how strange that was, hearing Severus state so matter of factly that he, Harry, could do things better than he, Severus, could and not be a bit upset about it. No, he supposed he'd bought too much into Sirius' claims that Severus was 'jealous' of everything the Marauders had done, and after talking to Severus, he'd realised that to a certain extent Sirius had been right. But not about the nature of the jealousy. Severus was never envious of those things he had no hope of changing or attaining; abilities topped the list--he could admire them as much as someone might admire his potion making skill. And he knew his limits well. However, Harry suspected that 'kindness to students' and 'patience with imbecility' probably fell into the 'no hope of changing' category.

Chuckling to himself, Harry walked up to Cerise's portrait and held his hands over the small table to the side of her chair. Sobering, he closed his eyes and concentrated on finding the _Schema_ of the tea service sitting on the table. Opening his eyes and nodding, he turned back to Severus, saying, "It's the same one you had in your notes. I can change it. While I'm working, could you keep an eye out for Cerise and make sure she doesn't enter her frame until I'm done?"

"I'll go patrol the hallway and see if I can find her. I won't go far." He strode to the painting next to Cerise's, a young man with a huge dog at his side, and asked, "Did you by chance see which way Cerise went when she left?"

The young man pointed down the hall to Severus' left. "Aye, she always goes down that way to meet her fella. Always considerate she is, keeping her trysts private-like." Severus' brows raised in surprise, although he didn't know why. Cerise had always been attractive to almost any male she met; even he had not been entirely immune to her considerable charms although he'd never availed himself of them, even when freely offered.

"I'll be off now, Harry. Give a shout when you're done."

Harry's attention was already back on the task at hand and he absentmindedly acknowledged Severus with a grunt of assent. He had to get this right the first time and Transfiguration _Schemata_ had never been one of his strong skills, although he didn't doubt he could do it. This one came in seven steps; Severus had somehow managed to finagle the sequence out of McGonagall saying the price had been steep, but not naming it. Harry took the hint and never asked thinking it was probably best he not know what McGonagall considered 'adequate' payment. In real life, the Transfiguration was simple, but since it was 'impossible' to change anything within a sentient portrait and make it permanent, the _Sanos_ magic using the _Schemata_ was the only way it could be done.

He dropped into the place where he healed, the intent different, but the concentration required the same. He pulled the _Sanos_ magic into a ball inside him and released it slowly into the painting. With the sound of the _Sanos_ ringing, the tea set morphed in smooth stages as he exchanged one _Schema_ for the next in the proper sequence until, with the final 'fixing' _Schema_, a perpetual bottle of fire whiskey with two shot glasses stood in its stead. Harry released the last of the magic to add a blood red rose to the side, a little touch he couldn't resist adding. Sighing, well pleased, Harry admired his handiwork for a few moments before finding a nearby bench to sit and wait. Belatedly, he remembered he was supposed to 'give a shout' and suiting actions to words, called down the hall in the direction Severus had gone.

****

Turning the first corner, Severus knew from the sultry chuckle that he'd found Cerise--and someone else. By long ingrained habit, he immediately switched into his 'stealth' persona and crept down the hallway intent on satisfying his curiosity--with whom would Cerise keep company? He suddenly stopped short. Hearing the familiar low laughter from someone he knew quite well indeed, he realised he need go no further to identify her mystery paramour; it was Phineas. While the two of them together came as a bit of a shock, it was nothing compared to his astonishment at the stab of jealousy he felt at the thought of Phineas 'occupying' her frame.

A few more silent steps took him to where he could actually see them. They were wrapped in a cosy embrace, engaged in one of those kisses that could stretch for hours if done right; Phineas obviously knew what he was about and Cerise looked like she had no complaints. Not wishing to disturb them or embarrass himself any more than he had to, he quietly turned back in the direction he'd come. He was about to re-enter the hall when he heard a loud, "Severus, I'm done." He heard a sharp exclamation behind him and made haste to join Harry at the painting.

Severus reached Harry at about the same time Cerise arrived. Patting her hair and adjusting her robes she stepped into her frame from the one next door. She spared them a glance when her eye fell on the bottle and glasses sitting on her table. She sat in the chair and picked up the bottle to examine it. Selecting a glass, she poured a couple of neat fingers and daintily sipped at the golden liquid, leaving half behind. A deep sigh escaped her. Smiling as she put the glass back down, she said, "Oh! Ogden's. Severus, Harry, you're so clever." She blew them a kiss. "What a wonderful present. What's the occasion?"

Severus and Harry looked at each other, Severus silently elected spokesman. 

"We come with an invitation, Cerise. Tomorrow night Dumbledore is handfasting us in his quarters. Would you be able to attend?"

Cerise looked from one to the other, a huge smile lighting her whole face. "Oh, dear hearts, I am so happy for you." Her smile faded a little when she continued, "I wish I could, but I can't get into Dumbledore's quarters. His office, yes, if I sneak in with Phineas, but his quarters are blocked to all who don't have the right portkey and he keeps no portraits or frames. Even Merlin can't get in. Values his privacy there, Dumbledore does." Genuine regret coloured her words.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry said, "we'd hoped you could be there with the rest of the meddlers we invited." Harry chortled at Severus' low chuckle. "Perhaps we could ask Albus to move your painting, just for the ceremony."

Cerise turned a fetching shade of pink. "I, um, don't think that would be possible. Dumbledore's, ah, a little cross with me right now."

Severus raised a brow, thinking on what he'd seen earlier. "Oh? And why would that be, hmmm?" He couldn't resist the urge to tease her. "Is it possible you got caught redefining the term 'head'master with a certain sharp nosed portrait?"

Harry's mouth fell open. "Phineas? You occupied Phineas? In Dumbledore's office? That took some brass."

She tilted her head to the side and rolled her eyes upward. "It is in the realm of possibility that Dumbledore did not fully appreciate the um, vein, of the--oration--I was enjoying with the portrait in question."

Severus laughed outright. Harry flushed, not quite succeeding in ridding himself of the vision her words inspired.

"Oh, Severus, look. He blushes so prettily."

Knowing Harry would kill him if he laughed, he turned his initial reaction into an almost convincing cough. Harry glared at him, then smiled ruefully, his face flushing a deeper shade of crimson. "You are an evil woman, Cerise."

"True. Tell me, Severus, does he do that at 'other' times?" With the light flush creeping up Severus' face at the recollections of just how and when Harry's cheeks turned rosy, she chuckled. "Oh look! You're a matched set."

Ignoring the jibe and Harry's snicker, Severus cleared his throat, but held his peace.

Cerise smirked wickedly. "I never thought I would ever see the day, Severus, when you would be rejoinder-free. Congratulations, Harry. It's about time someone wore out his mouth."

Harry grinned, thoroughly embarrassed, but this was Cerise--he knew it was harmless. He hazarded a quick glance at Severus and was pleased to see the small smile dancing on his lips.

They both turned their attention to Cerise when she spoke. "Now then, since I can't be there tomorrow night, indulge an old woman, will you? Stand next to each other, I want to see the two of you together." She put her hands on her hips. "Closer Severus, he won't bite--much." She sighed. "Closer now. How am I to see if you're a good match if you won't--Ah, Severus--I see you remember."

Severus turned to face his lover just as Harry asked, "Remember what?"

Cerise replied, "I can always tell if a couple is compatible, or not, just by how they stand together and hold each other." At Harry's scepticism, she laughed. "No, really. I have a good sixth sense about these things, and I want to see how you'll stand together tomorrow night." She lowered her voice, cajoling. "Make me a memory, please."

Severus moved until he was almost touching Harry. He placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and drew him lightly to him, his hands firm on his back and shoulders. 

Mentally shrugging--who was he to turn down an embrace?--Harry slid his arms around Severus' waist, his eyes never leaving his face. 

Cerise murmured, "There now. Ah, yes, that's exquisite." When she saw her old friend draw breath, she whispered to herself, "Severus, tell me he's the one I've hoped for you all these years. Look at him--tell him--"

"I love you," Severus breathed, the words carried more on the air, than any real sound. They gently brushed Harry's cheek as he mouthed 'I love you, too'. Severus loosed his hold and ran his hands down Harry's face, the wonder still fresh.

Cerise leaned forward in the painting and whispered, "Kiss him, Severus. Show me your sweet passion once more."

Severus folded Harry in his arms, bringing him close for a serious kiss. Harry kissed him back, returning to him the feelings of comfort and love washing over him.

Severus dimly surfaced when he heard her sigh. "So beautiful." And some time later, when they ended the kiss, her frame--and the glass--were empty.

**** TBC ****


	49. Part V Pledging a Troth

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part V : Together  
**Chapter Forty Nine : Pledging a Troth**

**16 August 2003**

Harry was nervous. Thinking about it, he supposed it was only natural. It was a big step, even if it wasn't permanent. While the Muggles called it 'an engagement', a handfasting in the Wizarding world was a little more complicated in that they would be bound, but not forever. The import of making Closed Form vows with another was so deep, so unbreakable, they were required to prove the compatibility of the union before making it for life. There were always the odd few who might love each other, but were either unable to hold a bond or who chafed at its intimacy once cast. He shivered, hoping it would not come to that for them.

Usually, the waiting time between the handfasting and the binding was for a year and a day, but Albus had told them he would rely on the Orrery once again to determine the proper date meeting all the requirements. Sounded simple, even to him, but he'd heard tales of people made to wait years before the signs were perfect. 

He looked over at Severus in his study, intently grading papers as if it were a normal evening at home. And he supposed, to Severus at least, it probably was. Just one more thing he admired about the man in a long list. Severus might agonise over a decision but once made, he never looked back with regrets or questions--he forged ahead and took whatever happened in his stride. Everything to him had a purpose even if only as a lesson of what not to do in the future. It had taken Harry a long time to understand Dumbledore's long-standing lecture and accept that things didn't just 'happen', they were always made by his choices. Even decisions by others, which affected him, were only as effective as he allowed them to be.

It took only a few moments of observation for Harry to notice that Severus was not working at his normally swift pace through the papers. He grinned--so Severus was not as calm as he appeared. Just another thing about him that he loved--Severus was very good at hiding himself from everyone except Harry. There were so many things about Severus that Harry loved, and he was relieved that Severus had not only forgiven him of all the stupid things he'd done, but had remained in love with the Harry he had become--and accepted him and his work fully. Given what he did and the potential cost to both of them, together with Severus' undeniable, inherent possessiveness, that he was willing to 'let go' approached the status of a minor miracle.

There had never been any doubt in his own mind to 'forgive' Severus of his omissions; he'd always known there were many facets to him he might never know and had always assumed it would take a lifetime for him to discover even half of them. There were nightmares and vague dreams Severus had, of which Harry had never spoken, nightmares that told him there were still many things about Severus he did not know in detail. And given the impetus of his own bad dreams, he was not certain he really wanted to know--not because he didn't want to share or relieve Severus of his burdens, but because he'd found that anything waking Severus Snape out of a sound sleep was generally much worse than anything he'd ever experienced. He also knew Severus would probably never voluntarily tell him of these experiences as there was an inner shame attached to them that Harry understood all too well.

Yet he knew Severus loved him, not in so many words, but he'd known, and he suspected Severus had never really considered it one way or the other, that Severus was not a man to express his feelings verbally, but oh, could he express them with his actions. Severus was actually quite affectionate, but he showed it in a physical way, in private. Harry was glad he had no real hunger for the spoken sentiments; he would have starved had he needed them. No, Severus showed him he loved him; Harry was enamoured of his hands, his mouth, and his voice, preferably being used on him, all at once. He shivered at the memory of the last time he'd experienced their wonders (had it really only been a few hours ago?) and considered himself the most fortunate of men.

****

Feeling the weight of Harry's regard, Severus looked up from his papers and while he didn't smile, he might as well had given the brightness blossoming on Harry's face. He went back to his papers hoping Harry hadn't noticed he'd not graded one in several minutes, the words swimming on the parchments as he wrestled his unusual nervousness into a calm façade. He had no doubts this was the right thing to do, nor was he concerned over the handfasting itself. Despite appearances, he was eager to bind with Harry, not because he was afraid it was the only way to keep him, but because it was the only way he knew how to assuage Harry's lingering doubts about his devotion to him, still voiced occasionally in his dreams.

No, he was concerned about what would happen when the news became public. Banns would be published and the world as they knew it would be given the opportunity to either accept their binding--or not. Given the amount of resistance they'd met when they first became lovers, even from their friends and colleagues, he could not imagine the kerfuffle when the public got their hands on it. As the thoughts were threatening to give him a headache, he pushed them and his papers aside, finished with them for the night.

Standing, he arched his back, stretching the stiffness from the hard chair out of his spine. _I really should get another,_ he thought, walking into the sitting room. _I'm getting too old for this one. Perhaps Albus could be persuaded to conjure me up one of his infamous chairs--they're ever so much better than a transfigured one._

As he came into the room Harry was in, he adjusted the fit of the new dress robes he wore. The black on black brocaded outer robe was a little stiffer than he liked, but at least it was light and almost fully covered the plain under robe of deep emerald and black jacquard silk, which was supple, heavy, and extremely comfortable. As was traditional, he wore nothing else underneath. He was amused at the colours Harry had chosen for him (since he refused to go shopping for it himself) even if the green of the under robe matched Harry's eyes. Severus' whole face lit with an inner fire as he gazed at his lover resplendent and sexy in his formal robes of deep sapphire over sea blue. There was just something formal clothes did for a man--

Wrapping Harry loosely in his arms, Severus' hands slipped easily under his outer robe to feel the heavy silk beneath. He leaned back to clearly see his face. _I love his eyes,_ he thought irrelevantly while he enquired, "Are you ready? It's almost time."

"As ready as I'll ever be." Harry sighed his restlessness.

Severus did the only thing he could think of to help--he kissed him. Harry leaned into its sweetness, and Severus could feel his concerns dissolving with the familiar warmth of Harry's lips, the light caress of his hands down his back. When it ended, they held each other tightly a moment before stepping back, Harry's fingers ran softly down Severus' face, conveying a world of meaning not spoken aloud. Severus turned his face and kissed Harry's palm, murmuring, "It's time to go."

"Have I told you how much I love your voice?" Harry asked huskily, taking the opportunity to run his fingers lightly over Severus' lips. 

"Hmmm. I think--yes, I'm quite certain--perhaps, not since this afternoon?" Severus chuckled as he pulled the Portkey out of an inner pocket of his dress robes. Grinning, Harry touched it as well. It flashed and, feeling the familiar hook-in-the-belly sensation, they found themselves in the upper balcony of Dumbledore's office where he kept his library, a place reached by a metal spiral stair they'd seen many times from below, but never visited. To their surprise, it was Poppy who greeted them, her vibrancy felt when she gave each of them a light kiss on their cheeks.

"Come, we're ready for you," was all she said as she turned to lead them through a plain door not seen when they'd arrived. Mystified, they followed and knowledge dawned when the door opened for her with no spoken command. _She lives here as well,_ was Severus' startled thought. A quick glance at Harry showed him he was thinking the same thing. Once through the door, she bade them enter with a hushed, "Welcome to our home."

While each of them had speculated privately as to the nature of Dumbledore's rooms, sometimes quite outrageously, the reality was quite unexpected. It was cosy and close, yet elegant and spacious; Severus suspected it would be whatever it needed to be when it needed to be it. For now, the old but lovingly maintained furniture in the sitting room had been set to one side, a space opened in the middle of a plush carpet for the business at hand. The marks where the furniture normally sat were left visible in the thick pile, lending a temporary air to the whole arrangement. A plain wooden table near the back held six sparkling wine flutes and a bottle nestling in a bucket of ice. Severus snorted at this Muggle display; Dumbledore always had been fond of their wines and champagnes as much as their sweets.

Albus turned from his conversation with Moody and Remus to greet them as well. "Ah, finally--you've arrived. Welcome to our humble abode." He embraced them both together, pulling them further into the room.

****

Dumbledore was rarely astonished by anything anymore, but the tranquil face of his dear friend and protégé after so much strife was in itself worth the long years he'd waited to see it. He knew he'd taken a huge risk in giving the Time-Turner to Harry, but had counted on Harry's talents and Severus' honesty to work it out in the end. Obviously the message had been received and espoused. Severus looked so young, the lines of worry cleared from his face as he entered their quarters. Not to his office, a fact significant in its own right; their lack of surprise and acceptance of _his_ lover so comfortable in her right to be there was in itself a revelation. To behold his two favorite people willing to openly express their love for one another put a joy back in his heart he'd not even known he'd lost.

He suspected, though, they would not be so open in public; they were by their fundamental natures, essentially private people, made more so by the roles they _had_ played as much as the ones they had yet to explore. He understood this completely; there'd never been a breath outside these rooms of the long-standing relationship between she and he, both old enough now to smile indulgently at the quickening of youth. As if aware of the privileged place they held in their lives, Severus and Harry had few inhibitions in front of them.

He stepped aside to let Remus and Moody by him, who were also making their way over to Severus and Harry. A clap on the shoulder by Moody soon became an awkward embrace as he greeted Severus with "Ya auld sod. He finally decided to make an honest man out of you?" He pulled away with a wink and Severus gave him one of his rare open smiles. Dumbledore didn't think he'd ever seen Moody smile so wide; he looked like he might burst.

Remus was less inhibited and gave Harry a big hug with an "It's about bloody time" spoken to him softly. Harry grinned and hugged him back. When he faced him again, Remus remarked quietly, not wanting to upset him, "I wish your parents and Sirius were here." At Harry's raised brow, he chuckled ruefully. "Oh, they might have howled at first, but they would only need to see the happiness in your face to know you'd made the right choice."

Harry nodded and remarked with conviction, "Oh, they're here, Remus." He touched the older man's chest. "They always have been." Remus smiled and Dumbledore was as pleased as the day when Harry had first understood this--the day he'd learned how to use his mother's presence within himself as a means of protection--one that eventually saved his life and defeated Voldemort.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Shall we begin?" At the various replies around the room, he continued, "Harry and Severus, please stand separately here," indicating a spot in the middle. "Remus, you stand to the side of Harry. Alastor, you do the same on the opposite with Severus." He gazed fondly at her. "Poppy, you may sit wherever you like."

"But, I thought--" Harry began, confused.

Poppy spoke up while sitting comfortably in a chair to the side where she could see everything. "There only needs to be two witnesses and while I refuse to miss this, I yield precedence to Remus and Alastor as family to you both. It is more fitting they stand with you, although you will never know the depth of my pleasure to be included as one of yours."

Severus formally bowed his head to her. He shifted back and patiently waited for Dumbledore with steady resolve.

Reaching into an inside pocket of his ornate burgandy outer robe, Albus brought out the box with their rings. He saw Harry's eyes widen in surprise as he glimpsed the simple band on Dumbledore's left ring finger; Harry's quick glance to the side confirmed the matching one on Poppy's hand. He caught Severus doing the same thing. Their gift to them both--the lifting of the _Obscurus_ spell under which their rings had been placed--mostly to protect Poppy. Albus nodded as he removed Severus' and Harry's rings from the case; his eyes, looking at them significantly over the top of his spectacles, slid to the men beside them. With their nods, he knew the message was received and understood--their friends were none the wiser--this was a special knowledge for them alone. Poppy, his wife of 73 years, beamed at them.

Putting the box back in his pocket, Albus silently floated the banded Gimmal rings, sans the inner hearts, in the air in front of them. Speaking a single spell, _Pateo_, the four remaining bands of the rings glowed briefly and then lay open to the next steps of the rite.

Quietly into the portentous silence, he began the formal ritual. "Severus Snape and Harry Potter, you have called us all here together. What is your purpose?"

They spoke the ritual formula in unison: "We have come to be handfasted in the sight of this company."

"You do this freely, with no coercion from each other or from any outside sources?"

"We do."

"And you are prepared to test this bond for a prescribed length of time determined solely on the time of your births and the rising of the moon?"

"We are."

"You are prepared at the ending of this time of trial to either enter into a Closed Form Final Binding or else step away from it, letting each other go separately, willingly, and freely, with no ties?"

"We will comply with the strictures of the probation."

"Very well." To Remus and Moody, he addressed his next remarks. "Alastor and Remus, you have been asked to witness this handfasting. Do you do so of your own free will?"

At their affirmative replies, he continued, "Is there anyone present who objects to this union?" He waited a few heartbeats. "Hearing none, we can proceed."

He waved his wand over the rings still hovering before him, saying as he touched it to them separately, _"Adstringus Severus In Harry."_ His powerful magic caused the rings to waver, morphing until they settled back into their original form. They were ready for the simple exchange. 

Dumbledore raised his wand and gently placed the tip on Severus' forehead. As he pulled the wand back, a strand of his intentions pulled back with it, similar to the threads of memory pulled for a Pensieve. Once separate from Severus, Dumbledore hung the strand in the air and with a twist of his wand it lengthened and transformed into a silver silken cord. He did the same to Harry, carefully avoiding his scar, the captured filament transforming into a gold silken cord. With a third touch of his wand to the cords, they twisted and twined into one shimmering whole. With great care he bent the cord into a loose open circle, the rings threading themselves on the ends.

Harry and Severus turned their regard from Dumbledore's work and faced each other, their eyes locked. Their right hands rose to press together, palm to palm, fingers to fingers, the thumbs folding over the back of the other's hand.

Severus spoke first, the dulcet voice low, his eyes intense as he uttered the first half of the prescribed rite meant for both:

_"I promise here to keep thee always_  
_Safe from harm and all fear_  
_Whilst on our travails through life's byways_  
_My troth, my love, I swear._  
_In this brief time of trial we face,_  
_Overcoming all strife,_  
_I'll meet thee again in this same place_  
_To vow to thee my life."_

He plucked a ring from the end of the cord facing him and taking Harry's proffered hand, slipped it on the third finger. It moulded snugly to fit. He looked perplexed for a moment, as if he couldn't believe it had been that easy, but his brow soon smoothed and he gave Harry an almost shy smile. 

Harry, his eyes never leaving Severus', spoke softly the second half, the words spoken for them both:

_"I promise to give thee my heart's fire_  
_To find the good and fair;_  
_Thou art my life's greatest desire_  
_My troth, my love, I swear._  
_In this brief time of joys we face,_  
_Sharing pleasures so rife,_  
_I'll meet thee again in this same place_  
_To vow to thee my life."_

Harry took the remaining ring and slid it easily on Severus' finger; the ring sized to fit perfectly. He grinned like a child after a job well done. Severus raised one brow, the smile on his lips reaching his eyes.

Without prompting, their left hands joined in the same manner as their right ones, their arms crossed in the middle. At this intersection, Dumbledore wordlessly placed the soft length of silver and gold cord, which he looped loosely twice around and tied in a complicated knot. Laying his wand on the joining, he said, _"Adjungo."_ The cords melted into them almost as if being absorbed by their skin, which perhaps they were, until they were not visible to the eye.

Severus felt it first, a tingling in his chest, as the joining melded with the protective spell he'd cast just two days before. A warm pervading sense of well-being and joy suffused him as he received in full the emotions and love welling through Harry at the moment. The golden feeling was brief but profound; he'd never experienced the like before and knew the effect would only increase with time, although not as intensely as it would with the final binding.

Harry in his turn felt a breath of Severus' keen protectiveness and fierce love he bore him. Like molten silver, it flowed smoothly through him, melting all his uncertainty; until tempered by Severus' gentle and tender regard, its intensity overwhelmed. He'd always _known_ Severus loved him, but not like this; he was humbled and shamed he'd ever doubted him. While fading, the essence remained, but he wasn't worried; it would grow stronger each day he let it touch him.

Dumbledore could sense the 'fasting' spell wrapping around the wards they bore. He shouldn't have been surprised. Severus had always been protective; to know he was letting Harry protect him as well gave Albus heart. He hid his pleasure at their inner reactions to each other--gold and silver they were; no, neither one of them had truly comprehended the depths of their affections until now. As Harry and Severus continued their silent exchange, Albus felt the amalgamation of their clean, burning commitment. It took his breath away and he found his eyes seeking Poppy's, their own bond singing.

Eventually, Harry and Severus came back to themselves, separate. Unaware of their surroundings, their hands came apart slowly and Severus leaned in a little to touch Harry's cheek, meaning to place a chaste kiss on his lips, with much more to follow later when they were private. Harry had other ideas though and easily turned it into one of their serious kisses, their lips meshing perfectly. He slid his hands sensuously along Severus' waist under his outer robes, and pulled him close, the flash of green calling to his mind the lushness of the forests they'd explored. Severus slid the hand at Harry's cheek into his hair, the other holding him firmly under his robe, the bold sea blue under his fingers almost as slippery cool as the ocean on hot sandy beaches.

As Harry arched into Severus (who pulled him still closer), Albus cleared his throat, certain the _public_ joining was complete. "I believe the ceremony is done," he said, a knowing smile on his lips as they started and pulled apart, awareness replacing the hunger in their eyes. "Best wishes to you both."

Poppy rose from her chair, her eyes suspiciously moist, and reaching them first placed a hand on their cheeks to give them her best wishes. She quickly stepped aside.

Through the years, Remus and Moody had both attended numerous ceremonies like this before--had even participated as witnesses. Thinking this one would be no different, each had (in their own way) come prepared to be adversely affected. Moody always felt more alone afterwards when he made his way to his solitary home. Remus usually experienced an aching loneliness, although more so in recent years with Sirius gone. But neither one had seen it through the eyes of people they cared so much about and so were not prepared for the utter joy that flowed through them from their friends, which somehow made it all right and took the sadness away. With much back thumping and simple hugs, they told their friends how genuinely pleased they were.

Dumbledore once again interrupted them. "I believe we still need to set a date for the Final Binding?" he asked, the twinkle definitely wicked now to those who knew him. "Come, Severus. Harry? We will consult The Orrery." The way he said it raised questions and brows and he knew they were asking themselves, 'had they not already seen it in his office?'

With matching, mystified expressions, they followed him up another stairway that hadn't been there a moment before. Poppy winked at them as Albus passed her; Severus and Harry climbed right behind Dumbledore. Poppy, remaining behind with Remus and Moody, turned to take a seat. She and Remus settled down to wait in the comfortable chairs while Moody kept himself busy opening the champagne and setting up the glasses for their return. The last thing Dumbledore heard before he reached the top of the stairs was Poppy assuring them it would only be a few minutes. He chuckled to himself--it would be much longer, but to them, it would only seem that way.

****

* "travails"--Old English _obsolete_--A most wonderful word meaning both travels and burdens/trials  
* "_Pateo_"--Latin for "Open"  
* "_Adstringus Severus In Harry_"--Latin for "Bind Severus and Harry."  
* "_Adjungo_"--Latin for "Join"

**** TBC ****


	50. Part V The Orrery

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

* * *

_Edited for FF.net--just a little--52 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.  
  
I apologise if this "feels" choppy, but coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

* * *

Part V : Together  
**Chapter Fifty : The Orrery**

**16 August 2003** Continued

At the top of the stairs and down a short landing, Harry and Severus stopped, dumbfounded, as they stepped into the heavens. They heard Dumbledore chuckle at their awe and discomfort--they were truly suspended in The Orrery. Severus thought at first it was a trick, but when he found he could point his toes and not touch anything in the huge space that extended as far as the eye could see, he realised they were literally floating in it. The bodies of the solar system moved cleanly in their stately celestial dance in a void of purest black, the sun glaring in the middle. Surrounding it, the stars shown bright, some seeming so close Severus thought he could touch them, but a raising of his hand proved they were far out of his reach.

Dumbledore's solemn but merry voice cut through the silence. "Welcome to the heart and center of Hogwarts, The Orrery. You wanted to know how I always know what's going on? Well, here's part of it--a feast of possibilities. Someday, probably sooner than you think, I will show you how it works; it's most unfortunate we've no time for more than the basics tonight. First, though, we need to rearrange things a bit."

Raising his wand, he cast a spell in what Severus recognised as Ch'olti', an ancient Mayan tongue used among astronomers. In it were words of command and he caught "the new moon" as well as their birthplaces and dates. His Ch'olti' (not that he'd ever known all that much of the tongue) was so rusty, he didn't understand much more than that. A series of silver lines followed by gold ones quickly appeared as the planets and sun rearranged themselves in a new pattern of orbits. Severus realised they were seeing birth charts in three dimensions, but also noticed the overall planet alignment was off, at least for his.

"An amalgam," Harry breathed next to him, his eyes travelling over the arrangement, his hand clasping Severus' tightly as if he were afraid of falling. "The planets' alignment is a joining of our birth charts--we're seeing a celestial representation of our bond."

"Very good, Harry. Never thought your lessons with Firenze would come in handy, did you?" Dumbledore asked with his usual devilment. "The gold and silver lines are the paths of your combined birth charts showing significant events in each, as influenced by the planet's alignments. In keeping with the handfasting, your lines are the silver, Severus, and Harry's are the gold. Where they cross are--milestones--if you will, dates and events of import to you both. Now let's see how the moon's phase influences this new alignment."

A flick of his wand caused four bright blue lines to shoot from Earth's moon, which had darkened, to four separate significant intersections of the other lines. Snape didn't know how he did it, but Dumbledore 'walked' over to one of them and tapped it with his wand. A chord of pure sound came forth. He listened closely, a frown on his face that quickly became a small smile.

"A _Mercury Ordinatus_," Severus said without thinking, recognising the notes, but not the significance.

Harry blinked. "I didn't know you knew music," he remarked.

"I don't," he replied ruefully. "There are 12 sets of magical sequences we use in some of the older, darker potions. I learned them all in my misspent youth. Judging from the planets involved, I would say the other three lines are, perhaps, a _Mars_, a _Saturn_, and a _Neptune Ordinatus_?"

"Close, very close, Severus. There are 24 _Ordinata_ used; twelve are of the planets, the other twelve are for the wizards who defined them," Dumbledore enthused. "The one you thought was a _Neptune Ordinatus_ is actually a _Newtonian_. If you look closely, the error is perfectly understandable."

Severus considered this and realised it was because the line did not go from the Earth to Neptune but rather ran from Venus. "Ah, I think I understand. If the line goes from Earth it is of the Solar System and if between two other planets, it is one of the other 12."

"That is correct, and before you ask, yes, the other 12 _Ordinata_ are used more than once, which is why they are considered 'Minor'."

Harry had been following the conversation closely and squinting at the display, he said, "I remember Firenze saying something about this. If I recall correctly, we would be looking for a Major juncture, not a Minor, and we would be following them in the order of importance with the _Mercury Ordinatus_ being the strongest, the _Newtonian_ the weakest. Right?" He looked unsure.

"Precisely, which is why I went to it first. Now let's see what the other three tell me." He went to the second line, the _Saturn Ordinatus_ and tapped it with his wand. The planets shifted in their orbits to form a new pattern. When the clear bell-like notes started to fade, he straightened and stared at Harry hard, with a little blush on his cheek. He chuckled as he moved onto the next line. "Well, that certainly will liven things up a bit."

Severus looked over at Harry, who looked as confused as he felt, and for a moment, he was tempted to ask Dumbledore what it meant, but would not give him the satisfaction.

He tapped his wand on the _Mars Ordinatus_ and the planets moved to different locations. Other than the notes of the _Ordinatus_, the silence of their movements was eerie and Severus felt a shiver run up his spine as they stopped with a small click. Dumbledore studied the new alignment and the line thoughtfully and then 'strolled' over to Saturn and Mercury again and looked at them with a frown mumbling, "Now that IS interesting." He waved his wand and the planets went back to their original position. He tapped the _Newtonian Ordinatus_ and waited for the planets' movements. Studying them closely, he nodded and said, "Much better."

"What this tells me is that there are two dates of equal weight available for your nuptials based on your combined births and the moon's proper position. A new moon, like the one tonight, is always preferable for personal joinings and bondings as it symbolizes new beginnings and carries powerful magic."

He turned to them. "According to the two sets of dates, the second one is more desirable as it has better portents attached to it, although I am a bit surprised a Minor _Ordinatus_ carried the best choice." Waving his hand to indicate the current position of the planets and stars, he continued, "This particular alignment will take place on October 25th of this year, a little over two months from now. The other date when they will come close again, but not perfectly, is in December 2005, a date too far away."

"October 25th? Sounds like a fine date to me," Harry stated, looking at Severus for confirmation.

"I concur, although it doesn't give us much time to prepare," Severus replied.

Harry's head was tilted back in puzzlement. "Not enough time? How long can it take to plan a wedding? It's not all that complicated."

Both men indulgently laughed at his innocence. "I suppose if it were left up to us men, it might be plenty of time, but unfortunately when women get involved, forever would not be time enough," Dumbledore chortled.

"Women? How did women get involved in a man's wedding?" Harry was mystified.

Albus replied with sympathy, "Surely you don't think Poppy and your other female friends, like Hermione and Minerva, are going to just stand aside and keep quiet about something they feel men have no business interfering with in the first place? As far as they're concerned, your job is to shell out the Knuts, not to get too drunk the night before, and show up, eh, Severus?"

Severus held up his hands in mock defence. "Don't get me involved in this. I've made it a point to stay away from women all my life."

Harry grinned. "Lucky me."

His curiosity almost unbearable, Severus had to ask, "Why did you choose the ones you did? Why not the other two and what exactly is going to make our lives 'a bit more interesting'?

Albus gave him a reproving glance over his spectacles. "Now, Severus, you know better than to ask about the future. It's too vague to be of any real use in the present." Severus snorted his scepticism. "As to why I chose those two in particular?" He shrugged. "I can only say it was by experience, and I've been known to be wrong--not often, but enough to keep me humble. Other than that, they just 'felt' like the right ones, and the other two, if I read them correctly, are far away enough in your future they may change at any moment into something, somewhere, somewhen different than they are right now. Besides, what's life without a little surprise?"

"A bloody nuisance, it is," Severus muttered. At Harry's laugh, Severus groused to Albus, "Just once, old man, I would appreciate a straight answer."

Albus looked offended at the suggestion he was being obtuse, but his wicked eyes belied his apparent irritation. "I am never crooked," he huffed, "bent, perhaps, but mostly straight."

There were so many things wrong with that statement, Severus chose to follow Harry's example and just laugh.

* * *

While they'd really been in the Orrery for quite some time, when the three of them came laughing through the door, only the promised few minutes had elapsed to the others waiting for them.

Curious, Poppy asked, "What is so amusing?"

Severus and Dumbledore glanced at each other and burst out laughing while Harry looked sheepish. She raised a brow. "Well?"

Snape gave in first. "Oh, nothing really. Harry wanted to know why two months was a tight schedule for something as 'simple' as a wedding."

Poppy's mouth flew open. "Two months? Are you nutters? It'll take that long to assemble the guest list, let alone order the--"

Albus interrupted her. "Nonetheless, two months and eight days is all that's available until October 25th unless we wait for over 2 years. If I know you, you'll manage."

"Oh dear. You're serious aren't you? I must Owl Hermione tonight. We'll have to start tomorrow. I wonder if Minerva would help, she's always--" She stopped and stared at Harry, whose hand was over his mouth trying to hide his mirth, as he sat heavily in the nearest chair. "Are you all right, dear?" she asked sweetly in the voice Albus wisely ran from whenever it was directed at him. However, wisdom was obviously not his strong point this evening when he decided to rescue the poor lad.

"Now Poppy, leave him be. Harry is just seeing the irony of it," he peered significantly at Harry over his glasses, "aren't you?"

Harry stared at Albus nonplussed, but managed to turn his laughter into an almost convincing cough. Nodding, he said, "Ah, yes. It's very ironic. What I thought--what they said--about the time--and you--" She pinned him with _the look_. "Right--I-I think I'll just shut up now." Looking anywhere but at Poppy, Albus shook his head and Severus, his brows raised, rolled his eyes.

"Champagne, anyone?" Moody asked carrying the tray of glasses filled with the bubbling liquid. They all took a glass, ignoring Poppy's muttered expletive, "Men!"

Harry, his face mock serious, stood from the chair to join the rest of the merry group, although his eyes were suspiciously bright. Severus, standing close to him, put a hand ostensibly on his back when he was really stroking the soft skin at Harry's neck under his hair with the tips of his fingers; it helped ease the fire burning in his blood. He'd been like this ever since they'd entered the Orrery and his willpower was running thin. He could feel Harry suppress the shiver of desire running through him at Severus' touch, his earlier levity quickly forgot. Severus could only assume it was worse for Harry as he had always quickened (and finished) faster and more than Severus ever did. He smiled indulgently at the vigour of youth.

Severus was grateful when Remus noticed their distraction and, raising his glass, proposed a toast for the newly joined couple, expressing his happiness and hopes that they would meet again on the appointed date. The clink of the glasses and the downing of the rich champagne heralded the ending of this evening as did the signing of the Banns. Albus explained to them, in great detail, how he intended to publish the Banns and, after recovering from the deviousness of the plan, they all agreed to keep the handfasting quiet among themselves until October, when the invitations would be issued.

Their subsequent good-byes were not protracted and soon all the guests were gone, leaving Albus and Poppy alone.

_'I hold their hearts,'_ Dumbledore thought irreverently, staring at the pair of gold rings left in his safekeeping, twisting them in the light until they sparkled. _'I think I've held them from the beginning. Soon, I'll get to give them back forever.'_

He looked over at his love who was watching him twirl the rings, her eyes the color of an autumn sky, a secret smile on her lips. _'And she holds mine.'_

After placing the rings back in their case, he went to stand before her, gently wrapping his arms around her under her outer robes. He held her tight, their own bond very much alive, and was about to kiss her when she pulled back, saying with asperity, "Two months, eh?"

He chuckled and kissed her cheek instead. "And eight days. It really was precious to see the look on Harry's face when Severus and I tried to explain how this all works." He chased his lips down her neck.

She remembered their laughter through the sensations swirling through her. She swatted him on the arm. "Stop that, you old fool, you're distracting me."

"I thought that was the goal," he murmured, nibbling on her ear. "And, I'll remind you, I'm not all that old," he huffed, slipping his hand below her waist and squeezing firmly to prove his point.

Poppy sighed, resigned to his play, yet relishing the sparks his touch always gave her. She knew where this was going, not that she minded at all; she liked Albus when he was frisky but still had to make one last token effort, if only to give him the means to 'convince' her to do what her body was clamouring at her to do anyway. "Be that as it may, do you have any idea how much work it's going to be pull this together in that short amount of time?"

She gasped as he dropped his hands lower and abruptly arched her tight against him. It earned her one of his deliciously wicked grins. "I'll make it worth your while," he said, waggling his brows at her.

"Oh, you--"

She never did get to finish what she was going to say. Nor did she remember to send any Owl to Hermione until well into the next day.

* * *

Harry and Severus made their way back to their apartments with demure haste, but once clear of the hallway and the stairs to the dungeons, they broke into a run, Severus in the lead. His shout of the password ten yards away had the door open before they reached it and they burst through it, dead even. Severus slammed the door behind them, breathlessly laughing with the joy bubbling up into him from Harry; he grabbed him and swung him around, pinning him firmly between the shut door and his eager body.

Harry was stunned with the shared force of Severus' desire and was grateful something was holding him up for he was not sure he could stand up on his own as his intended stole his senses with his demanding mouth and questing tongue.

Hands everywhere--Harry met him kiss for kiss--Severus gave sensation for sensation. They frantically divested each other's clothing--buttons flew, sashes sailed, robes dropped--and skin met skin in a frenzy of touching, stroking, licking, nipping, biting--each craving something the other was bestowing.

They never made it to the bed the first time.

The dress robes lay forgotten in their heaps on the floor as they both enthusiastically discovered that, yes indeed, the mutual inner sharing of their feelings in this new joining translated quite smoothly into an ardent sharing of their bodies. It was sweet indeed.

* * *

Later that evening, after the initial rushes of fire burning through their veins from the handfasting had been slaked on the floor of the sitting room, they finally made it to their bed.

Harry, having decided Severus was in the 'right' mood, had pushed him back into its soft downy comforts and was making his whole body sing with his mouth and tongue while Severus obliged him with a little jig as his back and chest writhed with pleasure.

Severus roused enough from his body's admiration of Harry's style and finesse to realise Harry was mumbling something at him from far away. Raising his head from where he'd had it thrown back against the pillow in abandon, he sucked in a breath when he _saw_ what the mouth was doing.

Steeling himself for the interruption, he asked him, "Could you--ahhhh--speak up? Oh gods--I--thought you said--ohhhh so nice--you read the--oh, yesss, right there--the blasted thing--"

Harry said blandly, "I did. Read it, that is."

"Then you missed two sections; the one on etiquette where it says to never talk with your mouth full and the other on _Fellatio Interruptus: Confounding and Disturbing Your Partner._" Severus groaned at the laughter he could feel in Harry's tongue as he tortured him. "Ahhh Haarrry--don't stop--"

Harry removed his mouth again. _'I'm going to have to kill you if you do that again,'_ Severus thought, his body on fire.

Harry lifted his head to look at his frustration, his whole face laughing. "What I said was, I noticed there was one missing in _The Book_," he said, the mischief clear in his eyes.

"If I ask you nicely to tell me what it is, will you _not_ stop again?" Severus asked almost pleading.

"I do-n't kno-ow," Harry drawled each syllable slowly, shaking his head.

"Don't make me hurt you," Severus growled.

Harry laughed wickedly. "Oh very well. The one missing is the _I-Just-Love-Sucking-Your-Cock-It-Makes-Me-So-Hot-Blow-Job_." He winked and went back to it.

Severus, much to his delight, soon found out just how hot Harry was.

TBC


	51. Part V Promising Prospects

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part V : Together  
**Chapter Fifty One : Promising Prospects**

**21 August 2003**

Harry and Severus were coming back from the Great Hall after dinner. Harry was lost in thought and mumbling to himself; Severus was trying to ignore him, knowing he was somehow going to get drawn into this internal debate no matter what he did.

Back in their rooms, Harry threw himself in a chair and exclaimed, "There are just too many positions to choose from!"

Severus chuckled. "What? Well, I admit there are a lot to choose from, but I'm rather partial to the _Quid-Pro-Quid_ myself. At first I thought it was a bit distracting until you so ably showed me the benefits of reciprocity."

Harry stared at him, completely at a loss for the moment it took for him to figure it out. Severus smiled at the thoughts flitting across Harry's face as he reconciled the subtle joke with his previous thoughts. Finally getting it, he chuckled. "No, you ass. I meant the jobs. There are too many jobs to choose from!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. Then the other thoughts filtered through. "Quid Pro Quid? I thought that was the Quid-For-Pro." He flushed. "Oh! I remember--you are sooo bad, Severus." he said trying to hide his flushed face from view.

Ignoring (but not quite) the dawning blush he'd caused, Severus asked, "Why do you need to choose just one?" At Harry's stumped expression, he pointed out, "Why tie yourself down with one establishment and limit yourself to only those patients _they_ choose to give you? If you were on your own, you would have the freedom to select the patients you help _and_ how you help them."

"Don't I need to make a name for myself before I set up a practice?" Harry asked, the idea having never occurred to him before.

Severus pressed on, shaking his head at Harry's lack of confidence. "You have already established a respectable reputation with your graduate work; it _is_ fairly unique. Given the secrecy you worked under before, one assumes you do not want your abilities generally noised about. True?"

"Well, yes. Quiesta thought it would cause more harm than cure, as it were, if it were known what I could do. Besides, we quickly discovered I was the only one who could do some of the things I did; she was loathe to diminish the uniqueness of her claim by letting others in on it." His mouth quirked to the side as he continued, "I admit, I thought she was more concerned about my failure than my success and how it would affect her reputation."

"I'm glad to see you had few illusions about her _motives_. Carlotta is brilliant in moving careers along, but she does tend to protect her station more than her charges. Actually, I was thinking more about privacy. You will not be able to keep it quiet in an institution with staff for very long." He waited for the implications to sink in. "I really have no preference myself, although to be honest, the thought of others probing our relationship as a result leaves me cold."

Harry tilted his head to the side, considering Severus' words. "I see your point. I'd hoped to avoid publicity. It was unbearable when we defeated Voldemort. The reporters, the people, the utter lack of privacy. I'm not sure I could go through that again or make you endure it either."

Severus thought on the publicity Harry's cases had received while a student. He'd told him he'd had to finally require a binding magical contract of silence with the respective families (except the Weasleys and Longbottoms) before he could attempt anything just to make sure no one knew he'd been involved.

He watched him closely, knowing Harry had not had the time to think of any of this. "I am curious though. Where's the rush? Why do you need to respond so quickly? While these offers you have may appear urgent, it seems to me they're really not, at least not from your perspective. You are most fortunate; you do not have the driving need to earn money, whereas _they_ are pushing you because every day you delay is lost revenues for them. If the need is truly there for your services, the other Healers will circumvent the system and approach you directly but only for as long as you are not affiliated with any one entity. It's the same in Potions and why I teach here. It allows me to be independent and yet pick up the odd commission as it takes my fancy."

Harry bristled. "That's cold, Sev. Surely they are motivated by means other than money."

Severus raised his brow in mock surprise. "Surely your four year stint with the various facilities cured you of _that_ notion." He snorted. "How much encouragement were you given to take on the Weasley cases? All or none?" At Harry's dawning anger he held up a hand. "I'm not using them as an example out of disrespect, they just happen to be one of the few whose name and circumstance I know. You have kept the others well-wrapped up, which is how it should be."

Harry remembered the controversy but had tried to ignore it at the time and said as much. "You're probably right, Sev, but for differing reasons." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Quiesta didn't want me to do it because she was afraid I'd fail but at the same time encouraged me because I might succeed. St. Mungo's practically threw them at me because the Weasleys couldn't pay the maintenance fees, and the Ministry was always right behind them; they wanted them gone. The huge fees they paid me were small overall compared to what the cost would have been had I not. Moreover, I refused to give the Ministry my promise I wouldn't hold them responsible if I failed until they gave both Weasleys a huge injury bonus." He chuckled wickedly. "They were not amused but they paid. The Ministry was practically pushing me into the room so they would not have to continue the disability payments. What a mess."

"And you? Were these your motives as well?" Severus asked gently.

Harry laughed ruefully. "I guess I'm just naïve. My only motive was seeing them well if it was in my power to do so. And I guess I was a bit arrogant, too, thinking I was above their petty concerns. You're right, it's certainly not about the money. I do have quite a bit of my own, although these offers are quite tempting in that regard as well. I suspect I would have charged nothing at all for some of them, at least, had I not been paid by the Ministry."

Severus knew this, it was one of the things he loved about Harry, this stubborn altruistic streak he had. He wondered briefly if he felt that way because he knew his own cynicism made such gestures very hard for him. He cleared his throat, "However, you are planning on charging for your services, yes?"

"That would depend on the patient, I suppose. I had no compunction about soaking the Ministry, though; they paid and paid well," Harry mused out loud, laughing. "However, I would hate to deny any one patient just because they've not the Galleons."

Severus snorted. "A noble sentiment--impractical but noble. I have found that most people worth saving _need_ to pay, even if it's only in trade."

Harry raised his brows and huffed, "Oh, and you charge everyone? Like Remus, for example."

"Ah, well, that's different."

"How so?"

Severus grinned. "Everyone will _expect_ you to be charitable. I, on the other hand, being the established, heartless bastard I am, still enjoy the prerogative of _inexpectation_. And Remus is a fellow teacher; I don't charge the staff."

It was Harry's turn to look sceptical. "That's not what I heard. Minerva was grousing the other day you'd raised the prices on the skin potions she prefers."

A small smile twisted Severus' lips. "Minerva and her beauty lotions." He chuckled. "I never have understood why she wants them. A mud mask and a large paper bag would be far more effective to make her passable, and certainly cheaper."

Harry sniggered, "You are sooo evil, Sev."

Smug, Severus replied, "Yes, I know. Good of you to finally notice."

* * *

**5 September 2003**

Harry came home late. He'd been at the hospital with a new referral and was on his way back to Hogwarts when an emergency had arrived after all the other healers had left. A Muggle woman, cleaning the attic of an old house she'd just purchased, found a dark object which released a curse, almost killing her. Unconscious when they brought her in, the Medi-wizard-in-charge at St. Mungo's had asked Harry to help, which, under his oath as a healer, he was obliged to do, although he would have done so in any event.

Hours later, he tiredly Apparated to Hogwarts and walked the distance up to the castle in the dark. He felt grungy, his robes under the cloak borrowed, as the old ones had been singed beyond repair when he'd finally located the curse and counteracted the damage it had caused. The woman would be fine, albeit a bit confused as she'd been transferred to a Muggle hospital with a section of her memories missing. He'd been relieved to hear that Arthur Weasley would be sweeping her house personally.

He trudged down the corridors, meeting no one, and descended gratefully into the dungeons each step closer to home giving him a little more energy until at the door, he felt almost normal. He was debating a bath or a meal first when he walked through the door. Closing it, he was surprised to note that he couldn't see Severus at the desk in his study. A quick check around their quarters revealed he was not there at all. Now he had three choices--bath, food, or Severus. It really wasn't all that hard a decision to make; he went to Severus' lab.

The wards intact, Harry soon found out Severus wasn't there either. Most unusual. Concerned, he decided to try Dumbledore's locator spell, the one given to Severus on his birthday. Pulling his wand, he intoned, "_Reperio Aperio, Severus_." Immediately an image filled his head--stairs, flights of stairs, going up to the sky. No sign of Severus, but perhaps the spell just showed the location and not the actual person. He concentrated, finding he could zoom in and out like a camera, and when he spied the moon phase designs on the railings, knew they went to the Astronomy Tower.

Wondering what had upset his lover enough to go on walk-about, he hurried out of their quarters and quickly strode to the Astronomy Tower to catch up to Severus. He huffed his way up the interminable flights, shaking his head at how he should be heeding his own advice to his patients about keeping fit. At the top, the door was ajar and a faint breeze made its way through the small crack. He pulled it open and stepped out over the threshold onto the upper deck.

A quarter moon shone brightly enough for him to observe Severus on the far side. The night clear, it would be perfect to view the stars, but Severus stood still at the crenelations seemingly staring out over the lake. As Harry drew closer he could see that Severus' robes billowed and snapped around him with the strong breeze out here in the open, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed. Harry made no effort to hide his footsteps on the stone flags and a few feet away, Severus turned his head to glance at him briefly before returning his empty gaze back to where it had been.

A million questions floated through Harry's mind, but if nothing else, he'd learned to just be quiet when he couldn't isolate one important enough to take precedence over all the others to begin. Clearing his thoughts, he joined Severus at the wall, placing his hand on his shoulder and waited.

There was a quality to Severus' continuing silence, a perplexity to it telling Harry that Severus was thinking hard on something. He debated whether his presence represented help or hindrance; he could _feel_ Severus' conflicting emotions--the foremost being a strong anger, deep sadness, a firm resolve, worry, and an odd tenderness Harry had come to recognise as his hidden compassion. Some of all of it was directed at him personally and he wondered what he'd done to upset Severus. The rest of it lead to something else. No wonder he was also reading an underlying confusion. He decided to stay.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when Severus finally asked quietly, not looking at him, "Harry, in your time as a student here at Hogwarts, did you ever think I was going to hit you?"

Taken aback by the question, Harry answered quickly, "No." But then a memory stirred. "Well, once. When I looked in your Pensieve in Fifth Year. You were murderous then, but other than that? No. You limited yourself to verbal assaults."

A long pause followed. "Were they truly assaults?" he finally asked, still quiet.

What odd questions. He thought on it. Were they? And could he offer him an honest answer given his obvious bias and affections? "Looking back on it as an adult, they were, for the most part, rather strong--admonishments--against our thoughtlessness as students. You had your moments of pettiness, like when you broke those ingredients to purposely ruin my potion, but by and large we deserved the chastisements. But as a child? You were most intimidating, quite frightening, really, at times. It was not a class I looked forward to attending and I admit I often went out of my way to avoid you and your biting sarcasm."

Severus nodded. Harry tightened his hold on Severus' shoulder and eventually coaxed him by touch to face him. "Severus, has something happened? What's wrong?"

Severus shivered in the wind now whipping across the Astronomy Tower, the clouds moving swiftly across the sky, obscuring the remnant of the moon. "Not now, Harry. Let's go inside where it's warmer."

Harry had no more closed the door to the deck when Severus engulfed Harry in his arms in the darkness, burying his face in his neck, breathing in deeply Harry's scent. Not knowing what to think, Harry still knew the embrace was for some kind of comfort and held him tight. Several long moments later, Severus loosed him, kissed his forehead, and started down the stairs. It happened so quickly Harry had no time to see his face and he scrambled to follow. Robes billowing around him, Severus travelled the hallways in his normal swooping fashion and soon they were approaching the door to their quarters, not a word spoken between them.

About halfway through the trip, Harry was able to isolate one of the feelings pouring off of his lover--boundless relief--and Harry realised Severus had been worried about him and his lateness. When he thought about the nature of the locator spell, he suspected that, while he practiced his art, his defence magic would block anyone from viewing him. Combined with their talks in Hana about the dangers and risks of Harry's work, he now knew that Severus had thought the worst--that Harry was not coming home--the isolation and withdrawal to the Astronomy Tower his preparation against the grief, his questions about past regrets. The fierceness of his embrace suddenly made sense. And he knew Severus would never say anything about it to him; it was not in his nature to do so.

Harry stopped him at the door with a hand on his arm and moved to face him. "Severus?" When he had his attention, Harry continued, "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He stepped closer, placing his hand on the lined cheek. "I promise, whatever it takes, I'll make certain I get word to you if I'm delayed even a minute beyond my normal time. All right?"

Severus' stiff, "That will be acceptable," belied the starkness in his eyes.

Harry leaned in and placed a simple kiss on Severus' lips. He spoke the password and they entered the apartment, taking their cloaks off and hanging them by the door. While Severus lit a fire in the sitting room, Harry went to the sideboard and, after ordering a light supper, poured them each a rather large brandy, warming the snifters with his hands. Juggling both glasses and the bottle, he went into the sitting room.

Already ensconced in his chair, Severus stared blankly into the fire. Harry settled the bottle on the table, handed one snifter to Severus, and keeping his own, he settled into the other chair. A few seconds later, Dobby appeared with a pop and a small lap tray. He removed the cover from the plate, handed Harry the napkin, and left as quickly as he'd come.

Severus swirled the brandy in the snifter and, taking a big swallow, continued staring ahead. Harry had seen him like this before; this was Severus at his brooding best and Harry instinctively knew that whatever problem was plaguing Severus, it had little to do with him. He was relieved and tucked into the thick but simple sandwich Dobby had brought him. He knew it was waiting game from now on and as long as he had food, he was content to wait.

"You want some?" Harry asked to break the silence.

Severus started and shook his head. "No, thank you, I had dinner earlier." He took another sip of the brandy. Watching Harry wolf down another bite, he chuckled. "Obviously you did not, or else you've reverted to the table manners of a three year old."

Swallowing, Harry grinned at him before taking a gulp of the brandy. He winced. "Not exactly the thing to wash down a sandwich," he said. "Sorry I was so late--had a bit of an emergency down at Mungo's right before I was getting ready to leave and I was the only qualified healer around." He took another bite of the sandwich.

While Harry chewed, Severus dissembled, "I wondered what had happened. You'd indicated this referral was fairly simple. How did it go?"

Harry nodded, clearing his mouth. "It went well--the emergency was in addition to my case. The man will need some time to recover, but hopefully he's learned to stay away from books he ought not to have. Oh, which reminds me." He reached in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small parcel. Muttering a spell, it unshrunk into a fairly small volume which crackled with hidden energy. Severus sat up in the chair and held out his hand. When he took the book, Harry said, "Part of my fee was the confiscation of what caused the problem in the first place. Nasty piece of work it is, too. I sealed it, thinking you would probably want to open it in the library where it's safer. Didn't know if you had this or not, but I had a look at it before I closed it to study the spell he used."

"Did you note the publication year?" Severus asked with interest.

"Yeah--1829. Not very old, but might be of some interest."

"Indeed it is. We already have a copy of 'Brown's Guide', but this is an older edition and the book feels thicker than the one on the shelves. Perhaps it is different; I will look at it tomorrow. In the meantime, I will return shortly; I need to put this in the library." He rose from the chair, book in hand, and made his way to his study.

Harry followed him with this eyes and took the opportunity to take another bite. Chewing happily, he was glad he'd been able to bring Severus something unique. Within minutes Severus returned, taking his seat once more, still brooding, but a little more animated.

"Well, I got one out of three," Harry said cryptically swallowing the last bite off of his plate. Severus raised a brow and Harry continued, "Food, a bath, and you. Those were my fondest wishes when I came home and not necessarily in that order. I've had the food and now--what say you we stupefy two Kneazles with one spell and take a bath together."

"I'm all for conservation," Severus murmured, a small smile gracing his face. Harry set the tray aside on the table and drained his glass. They left their chairs and made their way to the bathroom, shedding clothes as they went. When he passed Harry on his way into the pool, Severus wrinkled his considerable nose, saying, "I can see where a bath was high on your list of priorities."

"Flatterer," Harry hissed as he, too, stepped into the hot pool, watching Severus' delectable rear disappear as he entered the deep part. Harry followed, the water searing the weariness from his muscles. Almost floating in the water while Severus sat pensively on the ledge farthest away from the water source, Harry said, "All right, Severus. Come clean. What else is bothering you?"

Severus settled deeper in the water until his mouth was just above the surface. "Dumbledore called a meeting of the Order this afternoon. Seems he has some things he wishes us to do for him." He sat up straighter, sitting higher.

Putting his feet on the floor of the pool, Harry twisted to face him. "And?"

Severus' eyes were closed, his head thrown back against the edge. "And I find myself singularly reluctant to do his bidding." Harry had never seen a more tempting sight.

Shrugging, Harry paddled over until he was half laying on him. He anchored himself with his hands on Severus' shoulders and nipped his way up the column of Severus' throat, muttering, "Then quit." He could feel him swallow under his tongue.

Severus lifted his head from the side of the pool. "A bit difficult that," he murmured. He stuck out a long arm and plucked a bottle off the side by the mat. "Turn around," he ordered briskly. Harry did so, anticipation curling in his stomach. He could feel Severus behind him pouring from the bottle into his hands, which he rubbed together before sinking them into Harry's hair. The scent of sage and balsa merged with the sensual drag of those long elegant fingers massaging the soap into his scalp, working their way slowly around his head, digging deep into the skin. Eyes closed to slits, like a contented cat, Harry purred, "Ah, Sev--that feels soo good." Amused, Severus continued his washing, working his way to Harry's face and then lower, stopping after he'd scrubbed Harry's chest and arms and back.

Severus chuckled at Harry's moan of frustration when he stopped. Pulling his hands away, he said, "Rinse." When Harry came back out of the water, Severus slid his arms around his waist and pulled Harry to him. He sniffed Harry's hair and neck, saying, "Better. Much better, in fact. You reeked like you'd marinated in wet brimstone. What happened?"

Nuzzling his neck while Severus' hands floated across the skin of his back, Harry muttered, "Curse. _Exussum_. Caught a Muggle woman. Burned my robes healing her. Brand new, too."

The hands on his back stilled. Severus pulled his head away, his concerned eyes searching Harry for some hidden damage he might have missed. "Hmmm. Fire curse. Nasty--that explains the new robes and the lop-sided hair. I thought perhaps you were trying a new style."

"No, but the robes were a total loss when it backfired and I hadn't even noticed my hair." He felt along his fringe and smiled ruefully when he realised it was much longer on one side than the other.

"There's some counterspells you might want to consider learning before trying to work with it again. I'll show you tomorrow in the library. You'll have to improvise a bit, but I suspect it might be preferable to replacing an entire wardrobe."

Harry laughed, not only at himself, but at what Severus wouldn't say. "It might at that, thanks. And you're redirecting, Severus. What's this about the Order and why can't you just walk away?"

"Harry, one does not simply 'quit' the Order." Severus sucked in his breath. "Stop that. I'll never be able to finish if you keep doing _that_."

"Oh, you'll finish all right, but maybe not your sentence." Harry chortled, dropping his hands even lower.

Severus gasped. "Ahh--who's redirecting now. Ooh, that's _very_ nice."

Harry hung his head, his wicked eyes not the least bit contrite. "You're right, please do continue so we can move on to more--pleasant--topics of conversation." He pulled his hands out of the water and picked up the bottle off of the edge of the pool. "Might as well get this out of the way while you're talking."

While Harry returned the favour and washed Severus' hair, spending as much time on it as Severus had, Severus closed his eyes, groaning on occasion, and continued, "Remember the oaths we took? The ones that said we'd be members as long as 'needed'?"

Harry worked a lather up on Severus' chest. "Of course I do, but I also know we made them for the fight against Voldemort. It wasn't supposed to be a forever thing, was it?" He reached behind and ran the soap over Severus' back, his chest lightly rubbing against Severus'. "Give me your arm."

Severus lifted it out of the water laying it on Harry's shoulder. Harry started soaping it up in long slow strokes. Severus sighed. "No, I suppose not. So I just resign, eh?" When Harry nudged him, he gave him the other arm after dipping in the pool to rinse off the rest of the lather before it dried.

Harry paid close attention to the cleanliness of Severus' hands. "_We_ retire. Both of us." Severus opened his eyes, questioning. "I have no stomach for it anymore, Severus. There's so much about it I don't like--it seems so opposite of what we've built for ourselves. He looked up from Severus' hands. "Especially the secrecy. We've had nothing but problems with that and if we continue with the Order, there will be times when we will be expected to keep things from each other. While I can accept that there are _past_ events we will both keep locked within us, I am not sure the exclusion of current and future happenings is agreeable. To either of us."

Severus said slowly, "No, the keeping of secrets from one's spouse is never a wise thing in a marriage."

He held Severus' eyes with his own and could read his dawning resolve. "Besides, it's not like they really need our services anymore. I'm free of the prophecy and you're free of your--revenge. Sorry, probably a bad choice of words." He searched Severus' face. Relieved at the understanding he saw, he continued, "There are others better able to serve Albus' needs."

"True. As I said, I am not enamoured of the idea of continuing the charade anymore. If you're certain, I'll arrange a meeting with Albus tomorrow to discuss it with him."

"I'm certain and I'm free tomorrow. Sounds like it'll be a grand day to start exacting some of that 'retribution' we threatened the old man with when we came back from Hana." Harry lightly tripped his hands up Severus' chest with clear intent, feeling his chuckles vibrate through his skin. He captured Severus' mouth in a deep kiss, their tongues lazily sliding against each other. Breathless, Harry lifted his head away enough to gasp, "Now, about the rest of our bath--"

TBC


	52. Part V Waking Nightmares

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

* * *

_Edited for FF.net--361 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.  
  
Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

* * *

Part V : Together  
**Chapter Fifty Two : Waking Nightmares**

**6 September 2003** Pre-dawn

There was something odd about the Potions classroom. For one thing, it was too bright; for another, there were students in it. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws if the crests on their robes told the right story. Small and young, most probably First Years but certainly no older than Second Years and given that none of them were familiar, Harry could only surmise the former since he knew by sight some of the latter.

It was quiet, too quiet, and the motion of his sight swinging from side to side, the attention given keen, was too slow and disjointed for real life. So this had to be a vision. But not his; perhaps one of Severus'? It wouldn't be the first time they'd shared a dream; although rare, the perspective of looking out of Severus' eyes and hearing his thoughts was disquieting to say the least.

Severus' attention focussed sharply on two students in the back, the one a vacant-eyed, husky youth, his robe bearing the Hufflepuff crest, paired with a shorter, skinny lad of the same house, whose brow was furrowed in confused concentration. Even Harry could see where the synergy of the inattentiveness of the one combined with native imperspicuity of the other could be a volatile mix; he concurred with Severus' random thought that this pair needed to be separated in future sessions, each needing more competent partners.

Remembering his own studies, Harry knew the class was working on the simple cleaning potion every First Year learned, the extra watchfulness of the Potions Master due to the consequences if the potion was not made properly. He could feel Severus' almost perverse sense of satisfaction that at least one pair of the group, most probably these two, would fail, thereby giving the entire class a valuable reminder to always pay attention to the details.

As he strode to the errant pair, it happened. The smaller one added an ingredient out of sequence and the steam billowing from the cauldron turned a bilious chartreuse instead of the soft white it should have been. With mounting horror he observed that the other student, finally paying attention, tried to move the cauldron out of their way forgetting it was hot and with a startled yelp, let go, overturning the entire contents of the melting cauldron onto his partner, effectively covering him from chest to toes in a boiling sticky green potion. The boy screamed and Harry could feel Severus' hand pulling out of a pocket a bottle; without a doubt, Harry knew it was the counter-potion.

Running now, he could hear Severus telling the one covered in the smoking potion to move away from the table and remove his robes. While emphatic and authoritative, the tone was even and controlled. When the boy failed to respond, Severus' hand came out and grabbed the boy's shoulder, one of the few areas not covered by the potion, and he pulled him away from the sizzling mess all over the workbench. The boy flinched strongly as if Severus had struck him and started yelling, "No, I won't. Not anymore. I won't, I won't, I won't!"

Harry could feel Severus' perplexity coloured by his ire that the cretin was not doing as he was told and as a result his robes were now smouldering, the exposed skin of his hands raw and blistering. When the boy made to bring them up to his exposed face, Severus knocked them back down with a hard cut of his hands; the boy immediately stopped yelling and whimpered. The thought flitted quickly across Severus' mind that perhaps the boy was embarrassed to have his robes removed in front of his peers, but it was no excuse--they needed to come off. Steeling himself, Severus loudly exhorted the other students to leave the classroom immediately and to get help while at the same time he grasped the front of the potion laden robes to remove them, forcibly if necessary, from the boy they were burning.

Severus grunted with the pain melting into his hands as he firmly tugged the fasteners loose and yanked the robe off of the boy, throwing it well away to the side. With one hand on the youth's shirt trying to tell him to remove that as well since it was potion soaked, the other worked the stopper off of the counter-potion. He'd no more brought the bottle to the fore to use it when the boy went berserk. Hitting, biting, screaming unintelligible words, he fought him, the potion sluicing off of his body onto Severus' robes where they promptly began to smoke. His thrashing knocked the potion out of Severus' hands sending it flying where it crashed, breaking, against the wall, the potion now useless as it ran down the face.

If Harry thought Severus was angry before, it was nothing compared to the pain laced, white hot fury he now felt coursing through Severus with the antidote destroyed. He felt his lip curl as he exclaimed, "Goddamnit! I'm just trying to help!" He tried to grab the boy, but he wiggled his way free and tried to dart around Severus, full panic blooming on his face. Severus stopped him with an arm across his chest and none too gently pushed him back in front of him. "Stop struggling this instant!" The words had no effect and Harry could feel Severus make an effort to control his temper as the boy cringed, obviously terrified. Severus experienced a moment of his own horror and confusion as he realised the boy thought he meant to harm him. Holding him in place, and with less force, Severus tried to undo the shirt, his own hands blistering as he did so. But the youth was having none of it and began to strike out again, hitting the Potions Master in the face with a slimy fist, his silence eerie. The cheek, where struck, began to throb in agony as the potion started to eat through the skin.

Resigned, and not wanting to get either one of them hurt further, Severus saw no choice but to let go of him. He pulled out his wand and before the boy could make it halfway to the door, spelled him into a full body bind. An "Accio, Long," brought the boy back to him, as he said, "Now that you've managed to destroy the only means to stopping the burning, the rest of your clothes _have_ to come off." He'd raised the wand to spell the clothes off when Poppy came bursting into the room.

Taking one look at the situation with the two of them smeared with the smoking potion, a flicker of sympathy softened her face while she spelled the clothes off of both of them. Left in his skivvies, the perspective changed abruptly as Severus strode over to the locked cabinets and, with a muttered spell, he opened the left door, pulling another bottle of the antidote off the shelf. Without thought to his own injuries, he unstoppered the bottle and, reaching Madame Pomfrey and the boy, began to slather the counter-potion all over him. The effects were immediate and after he'd covered every inch, he poured some on himself; the cessation of pain left him dizzy.

Cleaning the potion off the boy, Poppy said briskly, "Happens every year, doesn't it? Well, I'm ready for him and have--" her voice stopped on a gasp and Severus looked up from his ministrations to see what the problem was this time. Seeing Poppy's horrified visage, Severus turned his attention to the boy. Harry echoed his inarticulate cry of shock.

While he bore mostly superficial burn marks from the potion, the worst being around his arms and hands, they were nothing compared to the physical devastation wrought by a third party over the rest of his emaciated frame. Bruises and fresh marks covered a multitude of new and older scars that told a terrible tale of long term abuse. An upper right arm, slightly askew, spoke of unattended broken bones; a scar running diagonally from one shoulder to the opposite hip indicated, at least to Severus' mind, of someone plying a whip or a switch.

"Good gods," Poppy whispered. Without another word, she cast a powerful sleeping spell over the boy, who was straining, with some success, against the strong spell Severus had cast. She made the preparations to transport him, wrapping him fast in a blanket Severus wordlessly handed to her after fetching it from another cupboard. "I'm taking him to the private room of the infirmary, Severus. If you would be so good as to notify Albus and have him join us there as soon as possible?" she asked, suiting actions to words as she levitated the boy through the doorway without waiting for a reply.

Just as Poppy left the room and Severus was heading for his office where he kept spare robes, Harry woke abruptly, his healing senses screaming at him that someone was seriously hurt. He lay there willing his pounding heart to slow to a more normal rate and bit by bit, the calm he normally occupied returned in stages until he lay limp, drenched in his own sweat.

Severus was mumbling to himself, still caught in the dream. With determination, Harry sat up and turning to face him on his knees, shook him awake, his hands on his shoulders. "Severus. Severus, wake up. It's a dream. Severus!"

In groggy stages, Severus climbed out of sleep. With a gasp and a cry he unexpectedly sat up, knocking Harry back into the bed. Rolling over and crawling over to him, Harry asked solicitously, "You awake?" When he got no reply, he murmured a spell and the lights came up, not too bright, but enough for him to clearly see his lover. Paler than normal, his eyes were wide and staring, his arms curled over his chest, the hands tucked into his sides. Breathing through his mouth in short puffs, Severus was still locked in some kind of inner vision, although Harry could sense he wasn't asleep.

Sitting across from him, Harry leaned over and put his arms around him, the hands firm against his back. Severus' forehead fell to his shoulder. Breathing hard as if he'd run a race, his arms unfolded to clasp Harry's waist. Harry held him, stroking his hair, while Severus' frantic heartbeat slowed, his breath resumed its normal cadence, his rigid body relaxing under his hands. After a little while, Severus sat back, separate, although his hands remained on Harry.

"Severus, how old was that dream?" Harry asked when the moment seemed right.

Startled, Severus asked him, "You saw it, too?"

Nodding, Harry ran his hand through the silky black strands still damp from their bath. "I saw up until Poppy left with him for the infirmary. Then I woke up. It was recent, wasn't it?"

Severus looked to the side. "Yes. It happened yesterday afternoon."

There was something in the dull quality of Severus' voice that prompted Harry to ask, "Is that why you asked me those questions up on the Astronomy Tower?"

Severus sighed and laid back down on the bed. He stared up into the canopy above. "Do you know Perrin Long?" Before Harry could answer, he shook his head, saying, "Of course you don't. How could you?" Severus took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Perrin Long is a First Year Hufflepuff and I am convinced he has some Longbottom in him--first week of class and he's already managed to melt a cauldron. Maybe the culprit's the 'Long' part and not the 'bottom'."

While Harry was tempted to laugh at the sentiment spoken with such resigned exasperation, the look on Severus' face and the memory of the dream were so serious he forbore to even chuckle. Instead he waited.

It didn't take long for Severus to resume his tale. "Long's partner wasn't paying attention and didn't notice when he added the batwing powder a step too early and created the scourging potion, which as you know, eats through just about anything." Harry nodded and was inwardly pleased he'd guessed correctly--Neville had done exactly the same thing, although no one had been hurt. Severus continued, "Normally, this is not a problem. Someone always manages it and I always have a counter potion ready for the fool who fails." He shook his head.

"So when the cauldron melted and then overturned, even half-expecting it, I was too late." Severus closed his eyes, his hand clenched at his side. Harry reached over and covered it, the thumb stroking the back. "When he went berserk, I had no choice--the fool was his own worst enemy--I had to put him in a body bind. And his silence, his terrified silence--."

He pulled his hand away and put his arm over his haunted eyes. "It was horrible, Harry. Did you see what we found?"

"Yes, Severus. I saw it. And you're right. The whole thing was regrettable, but there was not much you could do to mitigate it." Harry laid down next to him and tugged on his arm. By slow degrees, he coaxed Severus into his arms, adjusting to his weight half on top of him. He tangled one hand in Severus' hair, dragging the fingertips of the other in random circles around his back.

His voice muffled, Severus eventually went on. "Poppy took him to the infirmary, of course. Albus and I arrived at the same time, and while he responded well to the Headmaster, he cringed from me and screamed like I was a demon from hell. Poppy gave him a sedative and 'suggested' I not come back until he's healed. According to Sprout, Perrin's still there."

Harry tried to reassure him. "Severus, surely you're not blaming yourself for his reaction. I saw what happened; you did nothing untoward."

"You viewed it through my eyes, with my prejudice. To me it was a normal reaction, but as you so ably remarked last night, my verbal assaults are 'most intimidating and quite frightening'."

Harry hoped to undo the damage his honest words had made; had he known how Severus was going to use them, he would never have uttered them. "At times they were, but _not_ in moments like these. Severus, what little you said, you spoke with urgency, not sarcasm. It is most unfortunate the situation demanded some type of force--obviously your actions closely mimicked something that has happened to him in the past. It's the only viable explanation since you did nothing wrong. Besides, it could have been worse."

With a sigh, Severus rolled off of Harry to lay by his side. Harry turned so they were face to face, their heads only inches apart, but not so close they couldn't see each other. He was pleased to note the careworn lines fading from Severus' face. He raised a brow, saying, "Pray tell how it could possibly have been worse."

"It might not have happened at all. And then where would Perrin be?" Harry asked easily. "Granted, he would have not been harmed, but, as we both know quite intimately, there are hard, valuable lessons to be learned from injuries. But the main thing is that had it not occurred, no one would have known what he's been through. I can vouch, and so can you if you think about it instead of reacting to it, that it's not all that difficult to hide the problems from everyone and difficult as hell to talk about them to someone else--especially when one is eleven and scared in a new place. I can't imagine Albus will let him go back to his home without thoroughly investigating the circumstances. He might even be able to keep the boy from further harm. In any event, his life can only get better."

He hesitated, searching Severus' face. "And perhaps the Potions Master learned a lesson as well?" he ventured.

Severus leaned in and, placing his hand on his cheek, kissed him gently. Putting his head back on the pillow he asked, "When did _you_ get so wise?"

Harry turned his head and kissed Severus' palm. Folding it in his own, he held it in the space between them. "Is it wisdom to know firsthand the hurt of others? If that were the case, we'd all be the wisest of men. I'm not a wise man, my love, but I do know when you're hurting when you shouldn't be."

Wordlessly, Severus removed his hand from Harry's and arched his arm over his head. Harry slid easily into his hollow, snuggling close, his arm sneaking around Severus' waist, the hand resting on his hip. He loved the way Severus' arms always folded him tight to his body, the way their legs tangled without thought--secure, safe, and loved--the steady beating of Severus heart under his head soothing, yet making him feel, oh so, alive.

Severus relaxed under him. He kissed the top of Harry's head murmuring, "You're probably right. I'll try not to be so hard on the boy, not that I'll be easy on him either, but I will try to temper my temper, so to speak."

Harry smiled and decided to try and lighten things up further with a little hyperbole. "So let me see if I got this straight--within a twelve hour time span--Mr. Long fulfilled your highest inexpectations by melting his first cauldron the first week of his first year, the Headmaster wants you to risk your life again (probably to steal him some crullers from Knockturn Alley), and you thought I was dead. Man, when you have a really shitty day, you don't do it by halves, do you?"

Harry was rewarded by Severus' tired chuckle. "That sums it up fairly succinctly. Isn't it grand to be me?"

Laughing lightly, Harry kissed his chest. After a few drowsy minutes he dreamily replied, "Could be worse."

Severus yawned, half asleep, his words slightly slurred. "At it again, Potter? How so?"

"You could be Dumbledore," Harry remarked dryly, his eyes closing.

"Don't make me hurt you," Severus growled, pulling him closer.

Harry blew a sluggish raspberry and, with Severus' chuckle rumbling under his ear, his last sound was a sigh of contentment.

* * *

:: SNIP :: One Delicious Scene Deleted : A _Stretchy_ Severus Waking a _Happy_ Harry ::

* * *

TBC 


	53. Part V The Deal

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part V : Together  
**Chapter Fifty Three : The Deal**

**6 September 2003** (Continued)

Lazy Saturdays should never be wasted and so this wonderfully empty morning found Harry and Severus lounging in their dressing gowns, talking and laughing and debating about the events read in the morning paper while taking their leisurely breakfast, or discussing what they might do with their time should they ever rouse themselves enough to leave the castle. By late midmorning, they both agreed the first order of business was to send an Owl to Dumbledore requesting a meeting. They further decided that if they had not heard from him by noontime, they would go together to Wales to hunt up some furnishings for the Hana house.

Noon came and went. As they were about to depart through the front door of the castle, Dobby met them, saying that Madame Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to see them both in the infirmary; there was a problem and it was most urgent.

Harry and Severus exchanged resigned glances and, with mutual sighs, turned around and went up the stairs, their idyllic day over.

****

When Perrin woke abruptly, he experienced a wave of disorientation--white, it was so white--and for a brief blissful moment he wondered if he'd died and this was heaven; he felt no pain, didn't feel much at all. Then it all came into focus, his eyes tracking wildly. A white ceiling high above, bright white walls, white sheets under his hands, white beard and hair. Beard? Hair? He looked at the old man sitting by the bed in a squashy chair. He should know who he was--Dumbledore? Headmaster Dumbledore?

He tentatively tried the salutation. "Headmaster?"

"Ah, Mr. Long. So good to see you back with us. Don't try to speak," Dumbledore replied softly. "You're safe and well in the infirmary at Hogwarts."

Hogwarts. Perrin stared up at the ceiling. That was weird all in itself. He'd only been here a week, had only known he was a Wizard when that nice lady with the bun, Professor McGonagall, (was it only three weeks ago?), had come to his mum's flat with a letter of admission to Hogwarts. He was still trying to fathom what it all meant and, oh, the things he'd seen over the last week! Such strange things. Pictures that moved, portraits that talked, and ghost horses with wings! And people ghosts and witches and wizards and gnomes and goblins and a giant! He didn't know where he was sometimes, what with the things in the fairy tales being real and all.

His classes amazed him; he couldn't believe he'd floated a feather in the air. They were scary, too, at times. His potions class with the mean professor who talked of fame and glory was by far the worst; there was something nagging in the back of his mind about that, but for his life, he couldn't place it. Professor McGonagall was just as stern as Professor Snape, but at least she was nicer about it. But the people of his house, the Hufflepuffs, had been pretty kind about everything--there were others like him, pulled from the Muggle world and just as confused, and he had to admit he'd rather be anyplace other than home, what with his mum's husband and all. He missed his dad, though, gone now these last six years--

A rustle on the other side of the bed startled him out of his thoughts. He turned his head to face the noise, stiffening in response to the unknown, and found his eyes meeting the kindest, greenest eyes he'd ever seen. They were nice eyes but worried. There were dark, weary circles under them and he could see the little wrinkles around the edges like his mum got when Tony drank away the food money. This man sitting by the bed was younger, with messy black hair and--was that a jagged scar on his forehead? He couldn't help peering at it. Ashamed of his staring, he looked away and mumbled, "Sorry."

The voice was low and even. "Whatever for?"

"Was staring. At your scar," Perrin mumbled, hazarding a glance to see if he was angry. He didn't want to make anyone angry because that's when the beatings started. He was surprised to see a smile--Tony would have been blazing by now.

Harry touched it and chuckled lightly. "What, this old thing? I don't even notice it's there, although I've been told it's pretty spectacular." He lifted the fringe off his forehead. "Go ahead, look your fill."

And he did. It wasn't as bad as when he first saw it and somehow it fit the man, like it was supposed to be there. Sweeping his eyes over the rest of him, Perrin noticed he was wearing a plain long-sleeved shirt tucked into old, faded blue jeans; the foot crossed over his knee was shod in ancient white Nikes. "You're a--Muggle?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm Harry Potter and, no, I'm a Wizard." he replied with a wink. "I used to live with a Muggle family, though." Harry tilted his head at him and said kindly, "It's very confusing, isn't it? I remember my first trip to Diagon Alley and my first week here. Exciting and scary at the same time, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes! Professor McGonagall took me shopping for all my supplies; it was so cool. I got a wand and books and new clothes." Perrin noticed the grin Harry couldn't suppress. "Professor McGonagall said my stipend could even cover the cost of an owl, if you can believe it, which is good 'cause there was no way my mum could have afforded any of it seeing the way Tony always--"

He stopped abruptly, his face flushing with chagrin. He'd been about to say "--spends all of Mum's money," but was glad he'd stopped himself in time--it wouldn't do for Tony to find out he'd been spreading tales out of school.

Harry put his foot down and leaned forward a little, his hands loose and open on his lap but his eyes intent. "Tony?"

Perrin squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden tears stinging the back of them. He was in for it now. They'd tell Tony he'd been rude and then all of this would end. He would have to go home in disgrace and take his punishment for--

Harry's firm hand on his arm stroked gently, his soft murmured words in another language calming him as did the quietly spoken, "It's all right, Perrin. You're safe here. No one's going to send you home," by Dumbledore. Between them they eased much of his fear. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disrespect Tony," he said in small voice.

Harry spoke up. "Perrin, don't worry about it. You insulted no one." He leaned closer from his seated position in the chair, his hand still on the boy's arm. "I'm a Healer, Perrin, rather like a doctor. I have a few questions I need to ask you. The answers will be kept private, between the three of us, or if you prefer, the Headmaster can leave for a few minutes and it can be just between you and me." When Perrin looked at the two adults, he saw sincerity in Harry's face and concern in Dumbledore's.

When Perrin nodded, Harry continued. "It's never easy is it? Having someone at home who doesn't like you very much--I know all about that. When my parents died, I had to live with an aunt and an uncle and a cousin, all of whom hated me, called me a freak, and while they didn't beat me, they might as well had." Perrin was shocked, his eyes wide and staring. "Tony hurt you, didn't he? Called you all sorts of terrible names?" Perrin couldn't speak so he nodded. "Did he hurt your mother when she tried to help you?"

Perrin cleared his throat and Mr. Potter handed him a glass of water, which he gulped down gratefully. "Mum stopped trying to stop him early on." And that had hurt; he'd lost a lot of trust in her as Tony had taken more and more liberties and she'd done little to stop him. "I don't think he hit her though. I don't know that he did anything. I think she just stopped loving me. One day she just--stopped." His voice trailed off. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and for some reason he felt better with the touch. 

Mr. Potter continued, his voice oddly strangled. "I'm sure she still loves you; sometimes adults do really stupid things." Perrin thought on what he'd said and knew it to be true. Like mum marrying Tony in the first place. Sure, mum had been really sad when Da had died, but she'd told him she was all right and had called him 'my little man'. Then _he_ had come and it was like _he'd_ cast a spell on her. The thought bothered him in a nebulous way, but since Perrin didn't know why or how, he forgot about it.

The Headmaster's pat on his hand drew his attention. He looked over Perrin at Mr. Potter and then, looking back at him, addressed Perrin quietly. "We have one last question, my boy, and need you to think hard on your answer." The statement was so serious from the normally smiling Headmaster, it made Perrin want to dive under the covers and never come out. He was glad of the steadying hand still on his shoulder; the warmth of the healer's hand thawed some of his fear.

Harry squeezed his shoulder in encouragement, waited a moment, and then asked, "Were there ever times where you felt like you were missing time? When it was like you woke up and things were _different_ than you last remembered? The sun in a new place--being somewhere you didn't remember being?"

He knew! Perrin whimpered. The real terror--not knowing where he'd been, what had been done. The pain and the sick feeling afterwards, his head fuzzy inside. He whispered, "Yes. It hurt afterwards." He rocked a bit where he sat. "How did you know?"

The healer closed his eyes a moment, then opened them slowly to gaze at him with the oddest expression. It was almost the same look his mum got on her face when she talked about his Da. "Perrin, I know many things and the one that's most important, right now, is that you don't need to be afraid here. Tony can't reach you, can't touch you at Hogwarts. You're safe. While I can't promise you anything about your peers, I can promise you that no adult is going to hit you here, ever."

Perrin blurted out, "I thought Professor Snape was going to. He hates me, you know." He was confused with the sudden change in Harry's face. It was still kind, but there was an implacability there as well. 

"Professor Snape would no more strike you than I or Professor Dumbledore would. Unless you remember something different, he stopped you from running away with an arm across your chest and knocked your hands down when you were about to touch your face with the potion on your hands. Is this not true?"

"Yes, sir--but he was so angry at me."

Harry looked to the side for a moment obviously collecting his thoughts. He turned back to look at Perrin, saying gently, "Just because someone is angry doesn't mean they're going to beat you or that they hate you, Perrin, and I understand where you may have some difficulty believing me on this. Professor Snape is a good man and was more irritated at himself for not stopping you in time before you both got hurt. He is rarely angry at the students unless they're willfully disobeying the rules or him; he knows you didn't defy him on purpose."

Dumbledore spoke up. "Professor Snape needed to react swiftly to the dangerous situation before anyone got more hurt. It is sometimes easy to mistake concern and worry and pain for anger; however, Professor Snape wasn't angry so much at you, but frustrated with the situation and trying to control his own discomfort to help you, which can look an awful lot like anger." He smiled and peered at Perrin over his spectacles. "Perhaps this might be a memorable lesson to pay more attention in potions class?"

Perrin nodded, saying, "Yes, sir," and felt easier yet also a little guilty. He'd forgot the Potions Master had been hurt as well. But what they were saying made sense and he knew that with his Da, at least, it had been true. He looked over at the healer when he said wryly, "Next time, if you think he's angry, try to telling yourself he's just being 'loudly concerned'." He chuckled ruefully, looking at Dumbledore across the bed. "As I have good cause to remember--"

He was interrupted by the appearance of a snowy white owl flying into the room. She landed on the side of the bed next to Dumbledore, who removed a letter from her sharp beak. The bird minced across Perrin's legs and bobbed at Harry, who stroked her chest with the back of his fingers. Dumbledore reached into a pocket of his rich green robes and pulled out an owl treat, which he promptly handed to Perrin with a "Thank you, Hedwig, for a swift return." 

While Dumbledore pulled the parchment out of the envelope, Hedwig neatly took the treat out of the boy's hand and when finished, she nipped Perrin's fingers and flew off. Perrin followed her progress out the window, which opened for her, his eyes wide and wondering. 

After reading the note, Dumbledore stood and, leaning over the bed, handed it to Harry. Perrin watched as Harry's eyes scanned the lines penned on the paper, a frown forming between his brows. Harry sighed and folded the letter, putting it into his back pocket.

"I'm sorry, I have to go now, Perrin. I've checked you over and you're right as rain. Madame Pomfrey and I want to keep you here overnight to make sure you stay that way. I'll come back later this evening to check on you myself. All right?"

Harry rose from the chair and squeezed Perrin's shoulder gently when he nodded, his eyes fixed on Harry's face. Harry's hand brushed a stray lock of hair from the boy's forehead as he murmured, "_Sopophorus_." Perrin felt his eyelids get heavy and his body sag into the mattress as he swiftly entered his dreams.

****

At the sound of familiar footsteps coming towards him, Severus looked up from the book he wasn't really reading in the lounge of the infirmary. Setting it down, he stood from the chair in which he'd been impatiently brooding and asked, "How is he?"

"He's fine," Dumbledore said at the same time Harry said, "He'll be fine with time."

"Well? Which is it?" Severus asked reasonably, hiding his concern over the dark circles under Harry's eyes and the pale cast to his skin. "I saw Bill on his way out--" he rummaged in his pocket "--he said the curse was not set very deep yet and was fairly easy to break." He pulled out the familiar amber vial and making sure it hadn't leaked, handed it to Harry. "Here, you'll need this." Severus watched to make sure Harry drank down all the restorative before taking the empty vial back from him and pocketing it.

Harry sighed, licking the sweet potion off of his lips. "Thanks, Severus. Whenever did you find the time to make more of this? It can't be more than a week old."

He chuckled. "I'm not a Potions Master for nothing. I worked it in with all of Poppy's potions for the infirmary." What he didn't say, but he knew Harry heard anyway was that he wanted to make sure that the supply Harry used was fresh and pure, something he could not count on in the various institutions in which he practiced.

"I knew there was a reason I keep you around," Harry said lightly, teasing him; his colour was looking better all ready and Severus was pleased. He resisted the urge to touch him.

"And here I thought it was for my hot--"

"Ahem, gentlemen," Dumbledore interrupted.

"--bathing pool," Severus finished, raising a brow at Dumbledore. "Why Albus, whatever did you think I was going to say?"

It was good to hear Harry laugh and, with the small smile hidden in his beard, Dumbledore obviously thought the same.

Dumbledore shook his head in mock sadness as if at a couple of irascible students. "I need to check with Poppy on a few things. I trust you two can keep yourselves amused in my absence?" Without waiting for a response, he turned and made his way to her office.

The moment he was out of sight, Harry put his hand on Severus' arm. He could feel the shaking through the fabric of his robes and wordlessly folded Harry in his arms. Harry's hands snaked around his waist, holding him back, his head curled on his chest; with his closeness, Severus could feel the tremours running through him. He didn't need to ask what they'd found or how horrible had it been; Harry's response told him all he needed to know. A few minutes later, Harry calmed and stepped back a little. Severus stroked his cheek with his fingertips, kissed his forehead, and waited. Harry sighed, held him close one more time in a fierce hug, and let go with an "It was awful."

Severus' hand was still in Harry's hair, his thumb caressing his cheek. Dropping his hand to his side, he said, "It always is." Harry nodded and, standing close to each other but not touching, they waited.

Returning noisily, Dumbledore eyed them closely and, apparently satisfied with what he saw, gestured for them leave the infirmary. "Perhaps it would be better to discuss this in my office."

They walked briskly enough that the few people who considered stopping them thought twice about it, their light banter continuing all the way to the gargoyle guarding the stairs. Severus found the easy conversation somewhat unsettling in light of the seriousness of the last few hours; dinner had come and gone with none of them noticing.

Once seated comfortably at a small dining table tucked unseen under the spiral stairs, a light supper appeared in much the same manner as that of the dining hall. They ate quickly, ravenously, the plates refilling as needed until all three sat back with sighs of repletion. Severus noted that Harry ate twice what he normally did and filed the information away for future reference; while it had never affected him that way, Harry's use of the _Sanos_ obviously depleted more than just his magic.

"Ah, I needed that," Harry said, patting his stomach. "Now to answer your question, Severus, Perrin is going to be all right. He just needs a day of rest and quiet to recover physically, but mentally is another matter altogether and may take some time."

He sat forward, his arms on the table. "But you were able to reverse the damage of the curse? All of it?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, thanks to you recognizing it in the first place, we caught it in time. According to Bill, the curse is so rare he's never actually encountered it; your text notes of its _Schemata_ were critical to both his and my success."

Dumbledore poured them all a brandy. Handing the snifter to Severus, he queried, "I meant to ask you earlier, Severus, but we were so busy trying to get Bill Weasley here, how _did_ you know? It's been banned for more than two centuries; I've heard of it, of course, but have never actually seen it."

Severus looked over at Fawkes on his perch, his thoughts troubled. In all the time he'd been sitting in the infirmary brooding on it, he didn't know why the question surprised him--he should have expected it. Reluctantly, he replied, "The _Coactum_ is used primarily on children as it gives total control over all their actions without having to be renewed. It takes time, though, sometimes months, to set up the layers of the curse properly; very few Wizards are capable of casting it. Once completed, it's distinguished by a very distinctive, stilted speech pattern, often mistaken for shy stuttering, which degenerates over time. Mr. Long hasn't been at Hogwarts long enough, nor spoken enough for me to have recognized it sooner. It wasn't until I heard you questioning him earlier that I suspected what had happened."

He hesitated, his brow furrowing. "As to _how_ I recognized it, Voldemort limited its use to a select few among the Inner Circle; it was a mark of his favour. Lucius employed it once on a boy who was--less than appreciative--of his attentions; he 'invited' me to catalogue the _Schemata_, which to my shame, I did. Eventually, if not removed, the spell destroys the mind leaving a Revenant, an empty shell, behind. Lucius gave the boy to Voldemort and I never knew what happened to him." He looked away and murmured, "I suppose my only redemption is that those notes may have saved another boy a similar fate."

Harry shuddered and briefly touched Severus' hand. "Why Perrin? And why would this 'Tony' do such a thing? Because he desired the boy?"

"Ah, I may have an answer for that," Dumbledore said, holding out his hand. "The letter, if I may, Harry?"

Harry leaned forward and pulled the now wrinkled parchment out of his back pocket and handed it to the Headmaster who in turn gave it to Severus. He scanned the note once, read through it more slowly a second time and, setting it in his lap, leaned back in the chair, his brow furrowed as he furiously searched his memory, trying to place the name. He knew he'd heard it before. "Antony Mendino. Italian, one of Voldemort's European contacts," he said softly, almost to himself.

Dumbledore took the letter from him. "Yes, and once married to--"

"--Lucius' cousin. I remember him now. I met him once many years ago; they kept in contact during the war." The thoughts were swirling in his mind, assembling quickly into an nasty picture. "Lucius used him. How the hell did Lucius know Perrin was a Wizard, unless--"

"It has to be, Severus. Lucius had to have known the father."

Harry, following the exchange, spoke up, "If I read that report right, Perrin's mother was a Muggle, his father a Wizard. Wouldn't she have known both of her husbands were Wizards?"

Albus answered him. "Not necessarily, Harry. Perrin's father, Albert Long, trained at Durmstrang and, evidently, never told his wife what he was. It happened sometimes during the war--some Wizards chose to drop out of it rather than choose sides."

"That makes sense and, if he wasn't using magic, it explains why Perrin commented on Tony spending all of his mother's money. But it still doesn't tell me 'why'."

Albus and Severus exchanged a _look_. Dumbledore nodded and Severus explained, "To get to us, Harry. We're still numbers one to three on his 'people I would really like to see dead' list. Lucius must have taken advantage of the mother's ignorance to have Antony prime Perrin and, if the man is operating the way he has in the past, he probably forced her into submission. He had a reputation for violence."

He took a sip of the brandy while Dumbledore took up the speculation. "And Perrin resisted. The boy is strong magically, I can feel it and he nearly escaped your body bind, Severus; it was not a weak spell. Tony must have used force to set the curse over a period of time, the previous abuse to soften him up for the _coup de grace_ in Lucius' plan. Or was it Lucius' plan? Is the timing of four years ago significant? Based on Shacklebolt's report, Antony married Priscilla four months before Voldemort fell. Could it be that the Dark Lord started it and Lucius finished it?" He set his glass on the table.

"Does it matter? The result would have been the same and we may never know." Severus sighed, taking in Harry's look of incredulous horror. "Most insidious--who would ever suspect a child as a weapon? And it explains his frantic reaction to me when I approached him in the classroom. He would have been instructed to stay away from me at all costs as I am one of the few who could recognize the curse for what it was."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful and stared at Harry over his spectacles. "Regardless, Severus, you have the right of it; we may never know how it started, but we can prevent it from happening again." He paused and smiled like a happy Buddha, his shrewd eyes passing over both of them. Mildly, he continued. "Now, I believe I received a communication from you earlier this morning that you both wanted to see me about something of import?"

Severus knew that gaze all too well; it was the dreaded 'Albus-is-about-to-blindside-us-with-something-_reasonable_' look. They were in for it and, given he had no way to adequately warn Harry, he took a large sip of brandy to fortify him for what was sure to follow.

****

Walking back through the deserted hallways to the infirmary much later, an exhausted Severus rolled his eyes at Harry's comment, "I can't believe Albus accepted our resignation so readily. Watching over the boy seems a fair exchange for him releasing us from the Order."

"Yes, there is that, isn't there?" Severus remarked wryly and chuckled. "I have no doubt who got the better end of this deal--and it wasn't necessarily you."

"You are so cynical, Severus."

Snape sniffed. "I am merely practical."

"Right. And I'm a Blast-Ended Skrewt. The one who truly gets the 'better end', as you say, is Perrin. I'm not sure why I feel this way, but I think it's important the two of you make peace with each other; you got off to a rocky start and this arrangement could make him an integral part of our lives."

"Hmmm. Harry Potter, seer extraordinaire?"

"Hardly--Ron and I fabricated all our Divinations homework." He was pleased to note Severus' small smile, but continued in a more serious vein. "Should we tell him?"

"Which part? That you're now his guardian, or that someone cast a dark compulsion spell on him?"

"Both."

Severus gave the matter the thought it deserved. "No, I think this is one of those instances where omission has its place. We're not sure what's happened and the boy is under enough stress just learning about this world to be worried about what may be happening elsewhere. We will have to reassess the situation the closer it gets to the holidays when he might consider going home, although I am assuming you intend to keep him here."

"If at all possible, yes. I don't know what the rules are concerning a guardian vs. a living parent, but I don't want to see him go back either."

"In the Muggle world, the mother's claim is more valid. In the Wizarding world, your claim over that of a Muggle carries more weight. Since she can't get here and the Muggle authorities couldn't find Hogwarts if they tried, it is safe to assume you would be successful if you can convince Perrin to stay. Unfortunately, it will ultimately fall to Perrin to decide which world he will embrace."

"Don't you think it odd that Shacklebolt found the flat deserted and empty?"

"Not really. Given what we discovered today and even with no proof, I have no doubt Antony would not want to be caught."

"And the mother?"

"I would surmise that she is either with him or dead." They entered the infirmary. "Now I think we should stop discussing this until later."

****

The room was half-lit when Perrin woke to the sound of voices speaking softly outside his door. He concentrated, listening hard, and realised they belonged to the healer he'd met earlier, Harry Potter, and--Professor Snape? That couldn't be right. But there it was again--he may have only heard it in two classes in his life, but there was no mistaking the velvet baritone of the Potions Master.

Only now, the voice was--less harsh--it sounded tired and human. Perrin wondered briefly if he was dreaming. Everything felt real, though, and so he strained to listen. Maybe they would say what Dumbledore intended to do to him for hitting Professor Snape; whatever it was, he was sure it wasn't going to be pleasant.

The healer was saying, "Come on, Severus, quit stalling. I know you're dying to see with your own eyes that the boy is all right. He's still asleep and I'm quite sure he won't bite--" a short pause, "--this time."

Snape's immediate response was, "No, Harry. I don't do this. I don't visit the students in the infirmary unless they are Slytherin."

A beat, then Harry said softly, "You came to see me."

A long silence, then a sullen "That was--different."

Perrin could hear the laughter in Harry's voice. "Oh? How so?"

"Hmph. It just was." 

"Severus, the sooner I can check on the boy, the sooner I can get to bed."

Briskly, "_We_ can get to--" a long pause and then incredulity, "--you wouldn't." A rustle of clothing and then a long silence broken by "How Slytherin of you." The Potions Master sounded just like his mum when he'd done something clever.

A teasing voice. "Now, Severus, let's employ your Gryffindor side--"

"I can see I'm going to regret telling you that little tidbit." Snape gave out a protracted sigh. "Oh, very well."

Perrin closed his eyes, feigning sleep. He could hear the rustle of their robes as they stood by the side of the bed and knew the game was up when Snape said quietly, "Mr. Long, I trust you are feeling better?"

He opened his eyes to see Snape with his arms folded across his chest, one brow raised, and could that be a smile curling the edge of his mouth? Harry just openly grinned at him, saying, "Eavesdropping? Are you sure you were sorted into the right house? That's a most Slytherin thing to do."

"Indeed," Snape said, his neutral voice washing over Perrin, calming him, "I seem to recall the sorting hat taking its time with you, Mr. Long."

Perrin swallowed against fresh panic--was this bad? Had he done something wrong? Did the hat only take its time with 'troublemakers'? He knew what happened to them; they were beaten and got no supper. But the encouraging, sympathetic look from the healer prompted him to say, "The hat said I would do well in Slytherin."

Laughter in his voice, Harry muttered, "Seems to be a trend." Sobering, his mien understanding, Harry continued, "But you _chose_ to go into Hufflepuff?" When Perrin nodded, Harry asked, "Why?"

Should he tell them the real reason? Could he trust them? He was confused as he looked between the two of them--they were different somehow, especially Professor Snape. It was almost as if he saw him through clear glass rather than the funny, wavy glass his mum had in the bathroom window. The calmness of the Potions Master finally decided him; for some reason he did not feel the same fear of the man that he had in his classroom. And the healer, whom he liked very much, obviously liked Professor Snape as well. "Safer. It felt safer there."

Harry reached over and pulled up a chair next to the bed. He flopped in it, sighing gratefully. "Sorry, I'm a bit tired." Perrin caught Snape's glance of concern, quickly hidden by his normal sternness. "And safety's important to you?" Harry asked.

"Yes, sir." He hesitated; it seemed a little bald. He wanted to explain and wasn't that a bit odd? Before he'd always felt compelled to silence. "Hasn't been very the last four years, ever since my mum got married to Tony." Now why did he go and bring _him_ up? The thoughts of _him_ and the things he did filled him with familiar terror. His throat clogged and he choked out, "Oh, please don't send me back to them! I'm sorry I hit you, Professor, sorry you got hurt, too. I wasn't thinking--it just happened--I didn't mean it to. I won't do it again. I promise, I'll listen and pay attention."

He couldn't look at either one of them, convinced he'd scorched it with his outburst and was therefore surprised when Professor Snape said quietly, "Apology accepted." When Perrin finally looked up at him, it was to see the normal stern face, but there was something--different--in his dark eyes.

Harry's hand covered his on the bed as he firmly said, "No one is going to send you back, Perrin. Not if you don't want to go." Perrin, turning his head from his fascination with Professor Snape, stared at the healer, then sat up in the bed. He was a little dizzy, but it settled after a moment. He saw Harry's eyes glaze and then focus back on him. "That's all right then," he murmured, giving Perrin's hand a squeeze. 

Perrin didn't completely understand the look on Mr. Potter's face, but he did recognize kindness and concern when he saw it. And for some reason he believed him. "I don't have to go back? Ever?"

The deep voice of the Potions Master startled him. "No, Mr. Long, you do not. The Headmaster has decided to place you under--protection. As long as you stay at Hogwarts, no one in the outside world can contact you without his permission."

Perrin relaxed. His housemates had told him with awe that the Headmaster was the most powerful wizard alive, so if the Headmaster said it was all right, then it must be, 'cause even he knew wizards were stronger than Muggles. Then his curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "How's that?"

Harry's smile held a secret. "There are ways, Perrin. But that's for another discussion; we'll talk about it when you're completely well and settled in a little better. All right?"

"You're coming back here?" Perrin asked, confused.

Harry blinked. He raised a brow at Severus' low chuckle, tilting his head up sideways to give him a mock glare. Turning back to the boy, he said, "That's right, you wouldn't know, would you?" He grinned. "I live here."

**** TBC ****


	54. Part V Harry's Fantasy

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

* * *

_Edited for FF.net--just a little--778 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.  
  
I apologise--this is missing an entire section--coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site._

* * *

Part V : Together  
**Chapter Fifty Four : Harry's Fantasy**

**24 October 2003**

The cauldron arced through the air, sailing with explosive force from the middle of the potions classroom over the heads of the students who, after four years of Snape's tutelage, had at least developed the survival instincts to duck low. Unable to stop it from his position in the back of the room, even if his wand wasn't tucked in his sleeve, and certain it would harm no students in its perfectly calculable trajectory, Snape closed his eyes, unwilling to witness first hand the devastation it would create when it hit the front of his classroom.

End over end it flew, the volatile cargo held securely inside by centripetal force, content to stay there until, by every other law of Newton, its forward momentum was abruptly halted by Snape's desk. With a thunderous explosion, the bulky cauldron tore through the fragile antique, shattering it into hundreds of pieces, the boiling, botched potion inside splashing and coating almost every remaining surface of Snape's precious possession and the splintered parts of the bookcase beyond. The dull ferric thud of the cauldron landing and rolling on the stone floor was preternaturally loud in the absolute silence reigning in the classroom.

Torn by resignation and an anger so profound it threatened to erupt into the wild wandless magic of his childhood, Snape snarled a barely intelligible dismissal to the cowering students, who, like a bunch of disturbed swarm of cockroaches, scuttled out of the classroom as fast as their relieved legs would carry them. When the last of the students cleared the room, he strode to the front to assess the damage.

The bookcase he barely gave a glance; even if it had been utterly destroyed, which was pretty close to its current state, the reference books, along with all the years of notes in them, scattered all over the floor, were protected against such an accident by every spell (light or otherwise) he could devise to keep them intact. They would be fine as would the contents of the desk. But the desk itself? His eyes travelled over the pieces laying helter skelter over the front of the room. It might be possible to repair, although it would never be the same.

He pulled his wand and spoke the first spell to clean up the mess. It disappeared slowly, reluctantly, and by its resistance, he knew instantly what the potion had become. He cast a second, more powerful cleansing charm and this time the muck evaporated instantly, leaving the gruesome remains of one of his favourite pieces, now totally destroyed. He didn't even bother to try to put it back together; he knew it would be a futile endeavor, for the potion had become one cancelling certain types of magic, including the ones used for repairs. Cursing his luck, he hoped this would take care of any further misfortune lurking about on this, the eve of his wedding.

So, during his missed lunch, he'd supervised its replacement. As the house-elves floated it in, he gazed in dismay at the simply awful, huge table-like affair with closed sides and a deep apron in front running almost to the floor. He soon learned the front piece kept him from stretching his legs out all the way, an annoyance he tried to alter, but, as he tried to correct the problem, found his spells simply bounced off it with no effect. It was most vexing and only served to fuel his ire. As it was almost time for his next class to arrive, his last of the day, he determined he would have to get a new one when he and Harry returned from their honeymoon.

While he waited for his double potions class with the Second Year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, he decided to dismiss them early and just give them a surprise essay, detailing the potion they worked on in the previous class that would take up half of the period. He could then grade the assignments from the class before and not have to deal with the little reprobates. He liked the idea and, riffling through a pile of parchment on a side table, pulled out the right form. He waved his wand and soon 30 duplicates were there in front of him complete with anti-cheating charms, all neatly rolled up, waiting for the unsuspecting victims.

* * *

Harry pulled the invisibility cloak around him, hoping Severus' preoccupation would keep him from noticing that Harry had snuck in just as the house-elves were leaving. When he'd heard the explosion from their quarters, where he'd been making a list of the things he still needed to do the next day, he'd rushed to the lab terrified something had happened to Severus. Weaving his way through the scurrying students, he'd slid to a halt at the doorway. One look was all it had taken to assure himself his lover was physically fine, but from the stiff line of Severus' spine to the mumbled invectives pouring out of his intended as he surveyed the devastation, Harry easily recognized his temper and knew from long intimate experience it was best to retreat unnoticed than face the wrath ready to lash out at anyone stupid enough to get in its way. Severus would eventually calm down--someday.

The replacement desk had been his contribution as was the spell he'd cast to keep Severus from changing the front, which he'd known Severus would not like much. When he'd heard Severus order a new one, Harry had instructed the house-elves to use this one. Seizing the opportunity it presented, he'd run back to their quarters, got the cloak, and come back. His afternoon was free; he was supposed to be working with Dumbledore on some detail or other about the wedding, but he'd begged off, claiming jitters and a need to be alone. Dumbledore hadn't been fooled, his blue, knowing eyes glittering over his glasses, but Harry hadn't cared.

He still didn't like all the fuss with the wedding and he knew Severus was equally ambivalent. However, he supposed, from the participants' perspective, where it was being held, at what time and on what date, held some importance for them all. And of course, there were the little details on which Poppy and her little band had insisted. Severus had been antsy all week. Harry didn't think it was nerves, per se, but rather the difficulties involved in writing their Epithalamium, the traditional, formal poem Dumbledore insisted they write as part of their vows for the wedding tomorrow. He knew he wasn't too happy with his either.

Spontaneous as ever, Harry had decided it was his turn to use _The Book_ to his advantage and, as a beneficial side-effect, to calm Severus down quickly. Severus had, over the years, made good use of the section titled, _The Titillating Uses of Invisibility Cloaks_, after reading Harry's note in the margins that the cloak was kept in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. Later, he'd used his own cloak, the one Harry had now, as it was longer and fuller than his old one, which had a tendency to show his feet if he wasn't careful. That would just not do right now; he was about to embark on an adventure sure to stupefy Severus into voluntary silence--or get him killed.

For Harry was about to live out a fantasy, one he'd had since his Seventh Year. He had the cloak, he had the time, he had the Potions Master, and _he had the desk_. The infamous _Nibble-While-You-Work aka Getting-aHead-at-Work-Blow-Job_--he couldn't count the number of times he'd wacked off to this particular scenario before he and Severus had got together, the only thing holding him back all these years had been that damned open desk Severus favoured. There was no way he could have done it unobserved, even with the cloak, with the desk's sides and front open. Hence the replacement; ugly as a boil, emminently useful.

He sharpened his attention as the students started coming into the classroom, his heart starting to pound in anticipation. He needed no other stimulus. He'd been ready ever since he'd put the cloak on and made up his mind to _do it_. Once all the students were seated and Severus was passing out the assignment, Harry silently moved and knelt under the desk, arranging the cloak so it was covering all of him, including his feet. He sat back on his heels and waited.

True to form, Severus came back to the desk and stood in front of it a few moments while the panicked students bent to their task, eyes looking up every now and then, glazed, as what little thought they had was drawn to the surface in a futile attempt to write the essay. Satisfied he had, once again, managed to terrorize them, he went around and sat at his new desk. It felt odd, cramped, but he dismissed the feeling and grabbed the first paper to grade. He'd no more dipped his pen in the ink when--

Harry eyed the delicious sight in front of him. He leaned forward and gently ran his hands up the tops of Severus' thighs, his thumbs skimming the insides. He felt Severus' jerk of surprise and then a hand came down and touched his as if making sure he wasn't imagining it. His face soon followed and Harry, dropping the hood of the cloak, grinned at him--

* * *

_SNIP Sorry kiddies--even magic couldn't clean this one up! SNIP_

* * *

--Severus slumped in the chair utterly undone. He was not sure he could rise from it, let alone collect the papers. He could feel Harry gently fastening his trousers. The whispered cleaning spell he faintly heard removed all trace of their recent activities. He smiled, replete.

One lone Ravenclaw, who looked up at that moment, was mesmerised by the mellow, smiling face of the old sod. Almost sure she was imagining things, she bent back to her paper. When she looked up again, not quite convinced, the smile was gone to be replaced by his normal stern visage, but she wasn't as scared of him as she had been at first.

Harry sat back on his heels and waited for the class to end. This had been most satisfying. He heard Severus call time and heard the summoning spell as all the essays, finished and otherwise, flew to his new desk to arrange themselves into neat piles.

"Class dismissed," Severus said at the bell, watching the little cretins gather their things at the speed of sound and pelt out of his classroom. When the last one had left he stood and moving away from the desk called out, "They're gone. You can come out now, Harry."

Harry crawled out from under the desk and stood only to be captured by long, strong arms wrapping around him while a hard body pressed him against the desk, the lips hungrily fastening on his, making him ache for him again. _'Merlin, what a mouth,'_ he thought as he always did.

Neither one heard the hurried footsteps as a Ravenclaw, the one who had seen Severus smile, ran into the room. She squeaked when she saw them kissing and in a terrified whirl, ran back out the door, the book she'd come to retrieve forgot.

They broke apart at the high-pitched sound of her surprise and watched her run out of the room. Severus waved his hand and the door closed and locked.

"I wonder what tales she'll tell when she gets back to her common room," Harry chuckled dryly.

"Whatever they are, you can be sure they'll grow with the telling," Severus murmured, pulling his attention back with wet nips up his neck. He tilted his head, this time getting the kiss he wanted undisturbed.

He never did replace the desk.


	55. Part V Collaboration

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part V : Together  
**Chapter Fifty Five: Collaboration**

**15 November 2003**

Harry, sitting cosy in his study, was writing progress notes on his latest patient, a referral from a healer at St. Matthew's hospice in Surrey. He'd rearranged his furniture with the coming of winter to take advantage of the fire and was sitting comfortably warm. Horatio, recently arrived, was draped across his lap, his chest, and his shoulders, soaking up the heat. Cally was sprawled on the hearth; it always amazed him she never got scorched as close to the blaze as she normally got.

_[What bringsss you here, Horatio?]_ Harry asked, putting the quill down, done for the night. Horatio normally spent the evenings with Severus.

_[Massster isss letting the fire die. Isss too cold in there. Hisss lapsss isss cold alssso. He sssaysss I wasss too heavy and to goesss away. Yoursss isss much better.]_ Horatio was a terrible tattler. _[Massster hasss a headache from all the nasssty papersss on hisss desssk.]_

Harry closed the notebook and put it, the quill, and ink into the side drawer away from the fire. _[Ah, thisss I can fix. You'll have to go join Cally by the fire, while I go fix Ssseverusss.]_

Horatio extended his head up to regard Harry, his tongue flicking in and out, clearly agitated. _[Can I eatsss her yet?]_

_[No, you may not! Why would you wantsss to?]_ Harry asked him.

Horatio groused, _[Ssshe ssstole my mousssesss thisss morning.]_

_[Ssshe'sss a cat, ssshe hasss bad mannersss, live with it.]_ Harry admonished him, lightly tracing the black and white chain markings on his smooth belly scales with the tips of his fingers. Horatio was truly a beautiful snake.

_[OoooOoOoooo--Ssstopsss that! It ticklesss.]_ the snake grumbled, slithering off of Harry and coiling on the hearth.

His head raised, he eyed the cat. _[Not even a little nibblesss?]_ he asked hopefully.

_[Not even a whissskersss.]_ Harry chuckled as he pushed his chair back and stood, stretching.

_[Ssshucksss!]_ The snake turned his head away, dismissing him and his ssstricturesss.

He thought as he walked to the other study, _'You're no one until you've been ignored by a snake.'_

Severus was sitting at the desk in his study, grading a recent batch of Potions essays. As Harry neared, he could hear Severus mumble to himself, "Almost four months into the new term and they have made no progress. I think each new generation of students regresses. I swear these are worse than last year." The quill almost dug a hole in the parchment as he obliterated a line of text. "Imbecile," he muttered, his hand clenching in the middle of the paper, crumpling it. His shoulders sagged and he let go of the foolscap, putting his head in his hands, the long fingers rubbing his eyes as if trying to erase the words of the offending paper out of his sight.

Harry saw that indeed, as Horatio had reported, the fire was dying, the room was cold, and judging by the grimace on Severus' face he had one of his monster headaches, the ones he refused to go see Madame Pomfrey about, but Harry suspected was due to his needing spectacles and his unwillingness to either get some, use a vision charm, or let Harry fix it so he didn't need to. _'Stubborn man.'_

He knew Severus had seen him, knew he was trying to ignore him, and knew he knew what he was about. He shrugged, _'All that knowing and Severus still has a headache.'_ He stood close behind him and gently placed his hands on Severus' temples. He felt him stiffen and then relax.

"You know, you don't have to do this. It will go away eventually or I can take a potion to dull the discomfort." Exasperation rasped his normally dulcet voice.

"I know, but I want to talk to you and I need you lucid. Besides, what's the point in having a Healer around if you won't use him? You're quick enough with those obnoxious potions of yours." He felt Severus chuckle and nod his head giving him the go-ahead to rid him of the pain.

Harry closed his eyes and pulled in a small amount of magic. He gently probed; the headache was massive. "I don't know how you function with something like this," he said in a dreamy voice. He continued probing and soon found the source--benign but obtrusive--a small swelling behind each eye reducing blood flow to the rest of the brain. _'Just as I thought.'_ He poured a tiny bit of magic into it until the tissues were the proper size. He felt Severus sag with relief beneath his fingers.

Still connected, he said quietly, "I can correct this permanently, you know. Won't take but a few moments and these headaches will stop--"

Severus sighed, resigned. "Very well. Go ahead and fix it."

Harry knew his husband was apprehensive; most people were when it came to repairing something so basic as the eyes. However, he took this as a positive sign; it was the first time Severus had consciously allowed him to _Sanos_ heal him since he'd done it inadvertently in his sixth year and later when he'd healed the scars on his back and the night of their--well, he didn't much want to think on that. Harry wasn't exactly nervous, but he did take his time; Severus lowering his guard was not to be taken lightly. "All right then. Close your eyes, rest your head back on me, and please, relax."

Severus did as he was told, for once not arguing, and was reassured by Harry's steady heart beat and the even breathing he could feel with the back of his head. Harry sank deep into the ocular pathways and probed Severus' eyes. A light _Sanos_ touch on the optic nerves cleared small blockages forming from age, a tweak to the muscles around both lenses improved the focus, the removal of a small cloud starting to form on the right lens improved the clarity, and a reshaping of the left one pretty much did the trick. Everything else felt healthy. He gently withdrew, his scar stopped tingling, and he was out.

"All done," he said, resting his cheek on top of Severus' head and sliding his hands down his chest. "You can open your eyes now."

"Do you always get this familiar with your patients?" Severus asked, teasing, taking Harry's hands in his.

"Only the good looking ones," he replied with a smile. He kissed the top of his head, inhaling deeply the scent that was his Severus.

"Hmmph. Amazing, simply amazing. Thank you. The colours are brighter and sharper. I hadn't realised how blurry it had become." He kissed his hand. "But I'll wager it won't make these papers any clearer."

Harry laughed, kissing his neck. "I can only cure, not work bloody miracles."

"Well, yes, but I'm not sure even a miracle would do. These are abysmal." He pushed them aside. "You said you wanted to talk to me? I think I've _seen_ all I can stand tonight of these. I'd much rather have an adult conversation with you than read the sophomoric ramblings of clueless First Years on the uses of a simple shrinking potion."

Straightening, Harry said, "Sounds fine to me, let's go sit by the fire in the sitting room. It'll be more comfortable."

They separated and Severus stood from the desk. As Harry was turning away, Severus grabbed him about the waist and pulled him close. He gave him a serious kiss, his lips telling Harry how much he was loved and appreciated. When they ended it, he placed his forehead on Harry's saying, "I do trust you. I don't know why I wouldn't let you--before now."

Harry kissed his cheek, "I understand, Severus, and it's all right."

Severus nodded and let him go. They walked into the sitting room, Harry taking his usual seat to the right while Severus poured them each a brandy. He brought the snifters over and set them on a table between the two chairs before taking the other one. They both settled in, Harry putting his feet, in thick, mismatched woolen socks from Dobby, on a pouffe. Severus stretched his long legs out in front of him, his more conservatively socked feet roasting on the hearth next to Cally. She stretched and snuggled up to the bottom of his feet. He sighed and shook his head but took care not to move her.

When they were both comfortable and each had their brandy, Harry asked, "Um, Severus--I was wondering. If someone gives you the specifications for the end results of a potion, can you make it?"

Severus considered the question. "That depends on the breadth of the desired end goal. If someone wants World Peace, then no, it's a bit out of my range of abilities. However if it's specific and fairly narrow, like curing an in-grown toenail, then yes, it's possible. Why?" He took a sip of the liqueur and eyed Harry over the top of the glass, his black eyes intent.

"Well, when I work with multiple-injury patients, there are quite a few times I find myself wishing I'd a potion or charm for some problems the _Sanos_ can't fix. I _was_ able, twice, to create a new charm and once to warp the intent of the _Sanos_, but the results were mixed and not very promising. I suspect a potion would in the end be easier to control even if it's harder to test."

"Such as--?" he prompted.

"Well, take Bill Weasley or Kalani, for example, and why I ultimately failed with them."

Severus looked askance at him. "I would hardly call them 'failures'; you did, after all, save their lives."

"True, but I didn't completely _cure_ them either. They both walked away with far less than what they started with."

"Hmmm. Now is not the time to argue semantics. Suffice it to say I understand your meaning even if I disagree with your choice of words." He took a sip of his brandy and sighed. "Now, as you were saying--"

Harry hesitated, "Did you ever study _Sanos_ theory?"

"A bit. My training was primarily limited to performing and controlling the magic's accuracy in conjunction with potion usage--more the 'how' than the 'why' and certainly was never taken to the depth of study yours was. I didn't practice it all that often and as a result, my study of it was fairly limited," he replied, curious. "I taught you pretty much what I know, so take that as a starting point."

He eyed Harry thoughtfully a moment. "We've not had much chance to talk professionally--you should know from the start: I am not easily offended by my ignorance. I'm always open to enlightenment, although the deeper you go, the more time it may take me to assimilate new information. And I would hope you're not offended by questions. If I don't understand, I _will_ ask."

Harry laughed, happy. "Fair enough." He thought about it, wondering where to start.

For objects and spells, Harry had learned early on that, like opening the cabinets in Snape's office, reading the _Schema_ was a matter of sensing the magic and feeling how it resonated in him. Each object had a different feel and a unique identifier. He'd quickly learned to attached the identifier or name to each 'feeling' so that he could identify objects even when hidden by spells that changed their appearance.

Spells were a bit trickier and had to be repeated over and over as he cast them because one couldn't just stop a spell in the middle to examine it. Not too surprisingly, the hexes and Dark spells were easier to 'feel' than the beneficial and 'Light' spells and was why, Severus had once remarked, 'any fumble-wanded idiot can perform hexes whereas it requires finesse to perform charms.'

And while Snape had definitely been the 'master', Remus hadn't been too far behind; the sheer bulk of his lessons on the subject of the Dark Arts was surpassed only by the mammoth quantity required for Potions. His respect of the Potions Master rose when he'd found that Snape not only knew and understood the individual _Schema_ of each potion as well as its component ingredients, he could actually _see_ the _Schema_ of the synergistic relationships that made the potion what it was in its transformation, something Harry to this day still had difficulty recognizing with any precision, hence his appeal for help.

As he'd progressed, he began to clearly understand why he had to create the text himself. What he _felt_ was 'different' than what another _felt_ even though they were talking about the same thing. Snape explained, patiently for him, that it had to do with a person's individual magic and world view as to how something was described. In reality, the feelings were the same, but the _perception_ was different.

By the end of his Seventh Year, he'd had a stack of parchment over three metres high, some half-empty, a few _Schema_ filling several pages. All of his professors had advised him to keep them loose in boxes until he knew the patterns of his own thoughts before he bound them, a system he still used today. Snape, he learned, never had and from him he learned how to create a filing system in Wizarding Space to house what became a huge collection--Snape's certainly was.

If he'd thought the _Schema_ were difficult, he soon learned the _Sanos_ made it look like child's play. The first half of his lessons with Madame Pomfrey had taken place in the Infirmary, usually with a magical golem of the human body that could be taken apart to the smallest degree or with a skeleton (affectionately named Mac). The anatomy part of her lessons were fun and easy, the _Schema_ associated with each part clear and concise. The physiology was more difficult, but fascinating; it had been a relief to study something that had no _Schema_--the processes of the body. Lessons with Madame Pomfrey had been fun; the time moving quickly.

Snape's lessons were another matter. First he had to find the _Schema_ for each _person_; he'd used flavours and scents when cataloguing people (and still did). McGonagall was butterscotch, Dumbledore was, not too surprisingly, light and lemony, Remus was heavy whipped cream, Hagrid was fresh-cut grass, but Snape was a 'rich dark chocolate like Honeyduke's finest'. Snape's disdainful sniff when he'd read the descriptions still brought a smile to Harry's face.

He'd then had to review all the spells and objects that affected the human body; another thing to add to his catalogue. Finally, he had to learn, when presented with several _Schema_ at once, how to filter out those he knew, to identify each individual component, and then determine methods to catalogue those that were unfamiliar so that when he encountered them later he could add them to his collection.

Towards the end of his time at Hogwarts, he'd been able to filter the _Schema_ with ease and discovered he'd absorbed more than he'd originally thought. He'd also found that if he knew the spell used, it was fairly easy to apply the _Sanos_ to reverse it.

Finally knowing where to start, he said, "One of the first things you learn in deep _Sanos_ healing is that the _connectedness_ which allows the body to function so elegantly can also be a hindrance if one or more of these connections (or focal points) is damaged irrevocably. In order to affect a repair, in such a case, one must first create a new connection and then shift the orphaned function from the destroyed connection to the new one, which is fairly easy to do."

He took a sip and let the brandy burn down his throat. "These connections are not usually physical, per se, although some are. We're not talking about blood vessels or nerve endings here. They relate purely to our magic and are what separate us from the Muggles. Our magic is integrated into us metaphysically, something that is beyond the physical or the experiential. I'm sure you're familiar with this branch of thought as well as Ontology and Cosmology since they're all integral to Potions and other disciplines."

"I'm very familiar with Cosmology with its relational philosophy and less to Ontology's more abstract theories, but I recall enough for this point in the discussion."

Harry grinned.

"What, may I ask, is amusing you now?" Severus asked, sighing.

He chuckled, to Severus' annoyance. "You have no idea how many nights I sat studying, envisioning conversations like this with you. And the best part is it's more fun than I thought it would be."

Severus raised a brow. "You have a warped sense of amusement, Potter. But then again, so do I. Please continue; I hate being interrupted, especially when we're having _fun_."

Harry thought back to his many visits to Severus' lab when they'd first got together. And to what sometimes happened on any number of work tables as a result of their subsequent 'stimulating' conversations. _'Actually, this is better than foreplay in some respects, it just stimulates a different set of glands. Perhaps it's a good thing the students don't know the eroticism of just talking.'_

Noting the glint in Severus' eyes, he knew he'd been thinking on similar lines. Storing away his wayward thoughts for later with a small smile, he continued. "Here's the problem: each new connection created can only accept one function, period, but many of the connection points destroyed can flex for two or more. I don't know how to make multi-functional connections and neither does anyone else. Maybe someday but not now. And I found out the hard way--two or more new connections will not substitute for one multi-functional."

He sighed, "In Bill's and Kalani's case, one of the burned out focal points controlled their sight. Because the eyes are our primary sensory learning tools they're heavily connected into portions of the brain controlling cognitive function. The connection destroyed controlled both their overall physical vision _and_ their ability to control magic requiring line of sight. I tried, at first, making two connections and attaching each function to a new one but couldn't get both to work at once, nor can both exist separately; once one of them is used, the other atrophies. Hence the choices that have to be made.

He took a sip of the brandy, the burning down his throat relieving some of his own feelings about it. He needed to stay objective tonight. "Since blind people can sense where objects are located in space without seeing them, Bill's family decided to leave the magical control focal point and disconnect the visual, whereas Kalani's family decided the opposite. Bill's injury was due to magic--the sight portion was more damaged, so it was a good choice. Kalani's was exactly the opposite; with the blunt trauma, his magic left was weaker than his sight, again a good choice."

Severus held up a hand. Harry stopped and let Severus absorb the information. "I'm assuming it's impossible, because of the multi-function of connections across the brain, to just jump-start the cognitive functions and let the victim decide what to keep or discard? It's a terrible burden to place on a family." He inadvertently thought back to the horror on Malia's face as Kalani's magic was stripped from him one connection at a time. He quickly suppressed it, restoring his objectivity.

"I agree, it is. In some rare cases, it is possible to do just as you say, when magical _ability_ is not involved, such as what happened to Ron--his were cognitive and physical injuries with little magic involved. Ron has some minor physical handicaps most people don't know about, his speech clarity being one, which prevent him from ever being an Auror again; however, per his choice, he has all his mental faculties. His _repairs_ were completely cognitive.

"However, despite the simplicity of the process, the actual repair is complex; in some respects, the repairs are stronger, more permanent that the originals. Removing a new connection to place a different, more desirable one is difficult even if one created it in the first place. Removal shouldn't be done lightly; one can destroy both if not careful."

Severus stopped him. "So, if the connection is purely magical, or physical, or cognitive, then repairs are easy?" Harry nodded. "The difficulty lies when more than one of the above is dependent on the same connection?"

"Correct," Harry said, glad Severus could understand in one try. What he _wanted_ was going to be harder to articulate.

"Are there ever any multi-functional connections that have, say, two physical links or two magical links?" he asked.

"Are there? Good question." He looked at the fire while he searched his memory. Finally, he observed, "Not in my experience. None were of a kind. They were all 'x' plus magic or 'x' plus one of the others."

"Good, that's useful to know. Now, how do you think a Potion would help?" he asked, intrigued.

Harry blew out air forcefully. Slowly, drawing the words reluctantly from deep within him, he said, "I have no proof, just a _feeling_, an instinct if you will, about this."

"Some of our best advances have been borne out of 'feelings'. Go on," Severus encouraged.

_'Here goes nothing.'_ He spoke slowly, carefully forming the words from his nebulous thoughts, "When I work with Wizards or Witches, I can _feel_ an 'attraction' between connections, especially new ones. When I use _Sanos_ on Muggle subjects damaged by curses, I can _see_ their connections, although they have no magic, _and I can heal them_ but can feel no connection attraction within them. What sets them apart from us is they have NO multi-functional connections. _THAT_ is purely a Wizarding phenomenon. What if--" he fell silent.

Severus waited him out, excited, an idea forming he quickly suppressed needing to hear Harry's thoughts first.

"What if the true evolutionary difference between Muggles and Wizards is that this attraction _causes_ the multi-functionals in us and not them? What if our multi-functional connections are nothing more than two singles attracted and bound within us?" His speculations excited him--he could feel he was close.

"As I thought about it," Harry continued, "I realised that attraction between objects or cells within _our_ bodies is normally either chemical, or electrical, or magical, or a combination of all. Potions are chemistry _and_ magic. I can't shake the thought that a potion could facilitate a chemical _and_ magical attraction between _Sanos_ induced single connections, thus fusing them into the multi-functional focal points needed to completely heal a person."

Severus sat forward in his chair, his interest evident. "Why can't you use a spell?"

"Charms won't do it, I think because they are pure magic. As I said, I tried twice and got close but something essential was missing. I think it was the chemical part," he quickly replied.

Almost to himself, Severus mused, "Yes, quite possible. I can create electrical currents within the body with certain potions. Involves a mess of minerals, though, and has been known to throw a person's whole body chemistry out of alignment, but the purpose of such potions are to kill, so no thought has ever been given to control." He suddenly stopped, his face thoughtful. "You know, most of the potions that could potentially do what you want originate almost exclusively from the Dark Arts. We would have to be very careful how it was created."

"Tell me, Severus, what separates "Dark Magic" from "Light Magic?" Is it intent or is it source? Some Dark Magic can be used for good, some Light Magic can be used for evil. The _Sanos_ itself is born out of the Unforgivable Curses."

"No one knows but having worked with both, I would say a little of each," Severus replied. "The primary difference is that Dark Magic can be imbued with the intent of the creator so that it can only be used for the intent for which it was made. Something we will need to keep in mind if we use them; I suspect from your description and what I recall from your thesis, removing intent from a potion is as difficult, and as risky, as removing a connection once made."

"So, you think it can be done?" Harry asked, excited again.

"The theory you put forth is sound. I would need to see your research notes from previous cases to draw any useful correlations but yes, I think it may be possible." Severus set his empty glass aside. He murmured to himself, "I sometimes forgot just how young you are." Louder, he said, "Trust your instincts and I'll trust mine. I'll see what I can dig up and we'll discuss it again."

"I can do that," Harry said optimistically. He hesitated. "I was wondering. If the situation rises again, would you be willing to collaborate with me?" he asked, hopeful.

"That would be intriguing. We would be limited by how much time I could spend on it; however, I'm sure Albus would let me take a sabbatical if he knew how important it was. I suspect, if we're successful and once we have the theory down, each person would require a custom-made potion to accommodate their _Schema_. We would need to devise a way to automate the process so a cure could be created quickly to minimise the risk to the patient."

Harry hadn't thought of that. His wielding of the _Sanos_ on a custom _Schema_ basis was so ingrained he never gave it much thought anymore. It was just something he did. He could see where Severus' greater experience was going to be an asset to this effort. "And if we're successful, maybe we could publish together?"

"Absolutely, only I'll write it," Severus said, waiting for the outcry.

"All right. I'll even let you put your name first." Harry chortled.

Floored he wasn't getting a fight, he said, "You're being awfully cooperative about this. Most researchers wouldn't dream of someone else writing their papers. Why are you so calm about it?"

"Most researchers aren't married and sleeping together, are they? Trust me, it's really not worth fighting over. Besides, there are other ways; cooperation is a multi-faceted concept. I know where you live, I know where you keep _The Book_, and I can talk to your snake. Seems to me we can keep this pretty even, eh?" He laughed outright at the dawning expression on Severus' face and was satisfied he'd made his point.

Severus stood from his chair, holding out his hand, his face full of mischief. As Harry took it, he stood, raising his brows. Severus wrapped long arms around him and pulling him close, he licked the sensitive place below his ear and whispered, "Come _Mr._ Potter. Shall we see just how well we can _cooperate_, hmmm?"

Harry chuckled, and as he let Severus lead him into the bedroom, he said coyly, "Oh yes, I'm always happy to collaborate."

A wicked snicker was his only answer.

* * *

TBC in Chapter 56 : Epilogue : Twenty Years Later :: Chapter One : Hiding Under the Ninth Earth


	56. Part V Epilogue

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
**Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right**  
by _I Got Tired of Waiting_

Part V : Together  
_Chapter Fifty Six : Epilogue_  
**Chapter One : Hiding Under the Ninth Earth : Reluctant Warriors**

_"The consummate leader cultivates the moral law, and strictly adheres to method and discipline; thus it is in his power to control success."_

**11 February 2023**

Tensely perched on a wooden stool in front of his private work table, Severus Snape looked up at the clock on the wall to his right, ignoring for the moment that it had only been 30 seconds since the last time he'd checked it. He also tried to ignore the empty, aching pit in his stomach that had started in that time, one that had grown deeper and stronger with each passing glance at the clock. He glared at its innocence, wondering for the umpteenth time if it were truly accurate, as if he hadn't already checked it with a muttered spell as many times against the school's official chronometer every time he'd thought about it, which was just about every time he looked.

He moved his head to stare in front of him through the open, inviting door of his private lab, ears straining for the slightest sounds he might have missed in his concentration on the clock. But as he'd half-expected, all was silent except for the sibilant sound of Saganth slithering behind him, begging, in his hissing snake way, that the rat stay still for just one more second. Severus wanted to scream at him to be quiet, that he needed to hear, but knew that if he did, Saganth would just sneak away and sulk for days, which would upset Sleave, who would in turn upset--the slapping sound of the snake's strike followed a panicked squeak and then there was blissful silence; he knew Saganth would take a while to polish off a rat of any size; he was, after all, not nearly as big as Horatio, his father, although in all fairness, he was still growing.

He next gazed out the window set high in the wall to his left. Squinting his eyes, he tried to see if he could catch a glimpse of something, anything, winging its way to him to tell him he was being ridiculous to watch the clock. But the sky, turning gold and orange with the setting of the sun, was empty. Not even a stray cloud marred its perfection. He spared no thought to its beauty, just watched the ever-darkening colours with an increasing feeling of dread, which perfectly lined the pit in his stomach.

When convinced nothing was coming his way, he leaned forward, peered into his cauldron, and then, seeing nothing amiss, he closed his eyes and once again repeated the charm Albus had given him on his birthday so many years before--"_Reperio Aperio, Potter_"--and as had happened all this evening, he received in his head a picture of a grey nothingness, which he knew from infrequent experience could either mean Harry was actively healing, or actively fighting, or actively travelling, or dea--no, it did not bear thought yet. Only one of those options pleased him and since Harry had not yet made an appearance--

Inevitably his head swiveled again to look at the clock. And so it continued.

Such was his concentration on his fruitless endeavor, he violently started when the wards chimed someone's approach to their apartment. When the front door opened and shut quietly, the tension drained from his neck and shoulders, leaving him limp with relief and a little nauseous as the pit closed around its sour burden before disappearing. He opened the bond to his mate, but either Harry was preoccupied and didn't notice or he was purposely ignoring him. Given that Harry, for the first time in nearly five years, had sent no owl to notify him of his tardiness, Severus suspected the latter; however, he also sensed Harry was well and the last bit of tension in his back disappeared.

All this happened in a blink of an eye as Severus prepared himself to play 'the game' and murmured to himself as he stared again at the clock, "Not too bad. Just little bit past half past--he's only thirty three minutes and--11 seconds late. He'll be hanging his winter cloak and scarf," Severus waited a beat then continued, "then he'll toss his boots." A loud clattering thud could be heard as Harry's footwear hit the wooden shoe tray by the door.

With an evil smile, he whispered, "Then, he'll trip over the damn cat--"

"Mribeth!" he heard Harry yell accompanied by the frantic sound of someone's feet pounding the floor trying to regain their balance. Severus shook his head--Mribeth always came to greet Harry, trying to wind in and around his ankles, and Harry always tripped over her. He now watched his potion as well as the clock, which was now a friend instead of the enemy.

This little 'game' had been amusing him for the past ten years ever since Harry had set up offices in London. It had originally started early on in their marriage as an informal ritual to help him cope, to make himself believe that Harry coming home to him each night was an ordinary thing and not the miracle it usually was. As their mutual abilities and reputations had grown, so had the necessity of normalcy.

He nonchalantly turned his apparent attention back to his potion and, not looking at the door, muttered, "He should be coming through the door about--right--"

"Hullo, Sev," Harry said. Severus raised his head to calmly, openly look at him and the tired lines on his face as he walked over to the worn worktable and looked cautiously into the cauldron.

Not fooled for an instant by his apparent inattention, Harry eyed Severus hungrily and moved around the table to stand by his side. Like magic, Severus lifted his face to him, his throat lovely in its exposed vulnerability; Harry leaned in for a long, slow kiss, his fingers lightly tracing the strong cords of his neck, the contact of Severus' hands and lips erasing the harrowing day.

Severus kissed him back, fervent, one hand threaded through the snow-damp hair at his neck, the other cupping Harry's still cold face as if it were the most precious thing to him on earth. And it probably was. He broke it off, eyes scanning his husband's face as they always did, seeing the isolated silver strands stark in the darker hair of his temples, the fine lines around the eyes and nose, the eyes haunted by something new.

Harry breathed out, "Ahh, Severus, you always taste so fine of fresh air and warm spice. Just what this tired old sod needs after an impossible day with the London masses." He sighed happily as Severus settled him snugly into his side, his arm around him under his outer robes as he waited for the potion.

"Still at it?" Harry asked as he always did, curious, stealing an arm around Severus' shoulders, savouring his husband and anchor in his uncertain world.

"Always. Bartie's or Matt's today?" Severus leaned his head into Harry's side, savouring yet another safe homecoming. His hand, firm against his waist, was possessive.

"Both, actually, and I saw several patients at the clinic as well, one of them a new referral. It's getting almost too busy; it would be so nice to take a break every now and again."

"I admit, some time together, alone, would be as pleasant as it would be unusual. We could take that trip to Asia we always talk about but never seem to make." He chuckled. "As much my fault as yours, that. We are still going to Hana next month, right?"

"Oh, yes. I've already notified Ben and Kalani we'll be there for the christening." He sighed. "Three more weeks, I can't wait!"

"Neither can I. I can already feel the sun warming our tired old bones, not to mention--" He leered up at Harry, who laughed and bent down to steal another kiss.

Straightening, Harry hesitated and debated on how much to tell Severus right now when his upset was still so fresh. Severus may not have said a word to him about it, but he knew he'd probably started watching the clock after he was a few minutes late. If not before. So he settled on an abbreviated version, deciding to tell Severus the rest after dinner. "Had a bit of a fuss in the underground coming home. Finally got so tired of it I went to the loo and Apparated out to Hogsmeade. Didn't much care if anyone saw me, either. I just wanted to get home. Sorry I'm late; a bit hard to find owls in Charing Cross and, despite her many talents, Sleave has yet to learn how to Apparate."

As if called by her name, a tiny snake the colour of burnished gold unraveled from around Harry's wrist, where she'd been coiled like a fine bracelet, and whispered out of Harry's robes to settle on his hand right by Severus' ear. Severus turned his head to regard Horatio's strange little daughter and was rewarded by her long black tongue with a tiny fork at the end hitting his nose, just like her father's always had. Very softly he breathed, "There's a warm snack on the table for you, little one."

She hissed happily as she made her way down his shoulder and arm to the work table, where off on the far corner was a small bowl of cream kept fresh and warm by a spell. She dipped her snout in and drank deeply only to raise it and hiss her thanks, her muzzle coated in frothy white. They both chuckled indulgently; Sleave might be small, but her poison was potent and Severus was grateful she travelled with Harry everywhere he went as protection as she was far more effective than any bulky bodyguard. Most people, if they even noticed her, just thought Harry had a rather extravagant gold cuff; Sleave was such a calm snake.

Harry's hand idly stroked Severus' silky hair, still worn fairly long. The silver wings at the temples imparted a distinguished look to his lean elegance, the deeper lines in his face added more character. He surreptitiously looked down at him and thought him handsome with a fierce rush of possessiveness.

He knew Severus still worried about him when he was late by any appreciable time and suspected from the fine lines remaining around his husband's mouth that he'd cut it too close this evening. And for once, Severus' concerns were justified; the altercation at the station this evening was just another symptom of a world slowly going mad. And he wasn't sure who was the most insane--the Dark Wizards against whom he'd fought or the Muggles who still refused to believe in them.

He felt Severus straighten and was glad he did not pay much attention to his bit about coming home. With the completion of the potion, Harry could only hope it distracted Severus enough that he would not pursue it until later; like he had many times in the past, he irritably thought that this 'honesty in all things' business was a bloody nuisance at times.

Harry released him and stood aside to let him get on with it. He quieted at the intense look of concentration on Severus' face. Harry didn't know where Severus got the patience. He'd been niggling this particular potion along now for well over a year, seemingly grain by grain, and it still wasn't quite right. Each batch took five days to complete, so Harry reckoned Severus had at least fifty failed trials under his belt. And it didn't bother him, didn't frustrate him, didn't make him angry. He would just shake his head, analyze the results, mark it down in his notebook, and clean-up. And in a few days time, do it all over again. If he hadn't seen him do it so many times, he never would have believed it.

He could see by the look on his face, it had failed again. "Which batch was this one?" he asked, curious. Harry knew the several potions Severus experimented with were all related to the first conversation they'd had almost twenty years before (and of many subsequent discussions since) about trying to merge new _Sanos_ connections via a potion. They'd never succeeded to date, but several of the brews had yielded unexpected results and had proven useful in other areas, so it had never been a wasted effort.

"Oh, the usual. I was trying to see if adjusting the iron content would make a difference. It did, but not the way I'd expected. There's a synergistic relationship in it somewhere I'm just missing somehow; the _Schema_ is all wrong and the notes from the original potioner are next to useless. It's a bloody miracle his original potion worked in the first place--a prime example of luck over intelligence."

Severus' voice was nonchalant, but Harry wasn't fooled--the failure bothered him. He'd given up long ago any sympathy he thought Severus might need; he really didn't seem to want any. "I don't know how you do it. How do you keep from going crazy?"

Severus turned and smiled at him. "I use _The Book_."

"What does _The Book_ have to do with your potions?" Harry asked, obviously missing the point.

Pulling his head back and raising his brows, Severus asked, "After all these years and you haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?" Harry was truly mystified.

Severus had to laugh. "Every time I have a major set-back, you get head."

"Really?" Harry grinned and shook his head. "Lucky me. And this relaxes you?"

Severus nodded, moving a large mouthed bottle close to the cauldron, saying, "And it helps me focus on success."

"Success?" Harry handed him a small ladle. He put a funnel in the first bottle. "How so?"

"Have you ever turned me down?" He stood with the ladle in hand, ready to bottle the potion for analysis. The mischief was ready to explode out of his austere face.

Harry thought about it and then chuckled, "Not once," he finally said, shaking his head. He couldn't resist, "So, did you have a 'major' set-back today?"

Severus chuckled. "Made you ask." He smiled hugely to himself. "Not particularly. I expected it to fail; actually, with the new ingredients I added this morning, I needed to know _how_ it would fail. There's a rhythm to potions, a sense of balance that is eluding me right now over this one. I'm quite sure I'll get it someday. Merlin knows, we have time."

Harry looked disappointed when he remarked, "Oh." He suddenly brightened, and asked, "Care for some dessert, then, after dinner?"

Severus laughed outright, putting his hand on Harry's cheek and bringing his face close. "I wouldn't mind some _before_ dinner, but only if you've learned not to talk with your mouth full."

* * *

Dinner that night was taken in the Great Hall; the days when Severus could sneak away on occasion and not put in a regular appearance were long gone. Given his position, he rarely had the opportunity to be private anymore during his many public events, a situation that had strained their relationship at first until both had adjusted; it just made their private life that much more intense. Harry sat by his side, a normal fixture at the head table, as welcome as any professor even though he didn't teach.

While he really disliked feeling as if he was up on display, Harry regularly came to dinner for three reasons: to take whatever opportunities he had to talk to Severus, to squelch the rumours sure to circulate if he didn't, and, if Severus was engaged in urgent conversation with McGonagall, like he was this evening, or was busy watching over the student's antics, it gave him the chance to talk to Remus, who always sat to his left. Sometimes, with his on-call schedule to handle as well as his regular one, mealtimes were the only times he got to talk to anyone.

Tonight, though, Remus was engaged in animated conversation with Artemis, the school's Medi-Wizard. Artemis now made the Wolfsbane potion for Remus; it was what had sealed their friendship in the first place. When Remus had finally married sixteen years ago, his position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor secure, he and his then-young bride had settled down in one of the upper towers, the rooms airy and full of light. Poppy had delivered the first of their brood (now a Fourth Year), Artemis the other six, the most recent being only three months ago. His wife had had some difficulties with the seventh child and only yesterday had travelled back to her mother's to recuperate in the warm sunshine, the chill of the Scottish winter too much for her thinner blood to handle right now. Harry had thought to cheer him up, but it seemed Artemis was doing a fine job of it all ready.

With Severus and Remus engaged, Harry sat in the middle brooding and thinking of the day's events and how he was going to broach the subject with Severus. He'd almost come up with a plan, when his thoughts were interrupted by a low smoky voice tickling his ear. "I've managed to put the old bag off until tomorrow morning. What say you we retire to our quarters--I hear a roaring fire and a warm brandy in front of it are conducive to the simplest of confessions."

With Severus' warm hand settling flat on his thigh, Harry shivered slightly. What Severus could do with those hands! He leaned over, his lips on Severus' ear, hidden from view by the room at large by his face. Harry licked the lobe and felt the hand tighten as he whispered, "And if I have nothing to confess?"

Severus pulled back and raised a brow, saying nothing. Harry smiled sheepishly at him--Severus knew he hadn't told him everything. Harry sighed and murmured, "Only if it's the Remy."

Somehow Severus managed to convey a world of sympathy in a simple stroke up Harry's thigh before he withdrew his hand, grabbing the napkin off of his lap to wipe his mouth and place it concisely on the table. He glanced at McGonagall and they stood together, indicating the meal was over. Following them out of the room Harry was sadly reminded of when Dumbledore was the one to do this, but time stood still for no wizard and it had been years since the old man had graced the table. It was a new time and a new regime at Hogwarts. And everywhere else for that matter.

* * *

By the time Harry came out of the loo, Severus had already changed into his dressing gown, the fire in their sitting room was lit, and a new bottle of Remy was opened on a low table placed next to the pile of cushions and floor chairs they used each night before retiring. While the furniture was different here, everything else was much the same. They still occupied their sunny rooms in the dungeons with a few new passages cut here and there to aid Severus, especially, in getting around the castle quickly and efficiently.

An anniversary present from Kalani and Ben a few years back, the floor chairs were quite simple in that their body weight on the seats held the backs in place. They could lounge in front of the fire in blazing comfort or the chairs could be quickly and easily folded and removed for other 'hot' pursuits on the silk rug or other cushions surrounding the area. As Harry settled into one of the comfortably upholstered chairs, Severus handed him a rather full snifter of his favourite cognac, and then settled himself down next to Harry at an angle, slightly facing him but within easy reach. He picked up his own glass off of another table near to him and made himself comfortable, his legs stretched out towards the fire.

And he waited.

Harry swirled the liqueur in the glass and decided to start off with something innocuous. "I heard from Malia today that Kahealani made it back fine and is even now working on her tan. Of course, she and all the Aunties are positively drooling over the grandchildren."

Severus adjusted to this line of thought by remarking with a small smile, "Yes, Remus told me this morning. While he's a bit lonely with her and the younger children gone, he's also grateful she's where she can relax. I gather this one was the hardest of the lot."

Harry hesitated, but knew Severus needed to be aware of the situations both personally and professionally of all the teachers since they were part of his responsibility. "Hard is perhaps too easy a word." He took a sip of the Remy and sighed. "It almost killed her. Artemis and Remus asked me to look at her the other day. She's far too frail and I suggested they send her home so at least she wouldn't have to deal with the cold and the children on top of everything else." He took another sip and stared into the fire.

"She will be all right?" Severus asked with some concern, leaning forward. Kahealani was like a sister to them both.

Harry finally looked at him and put his hand on his knee. "With proper rest--" he took a deep breath "--and no more babies, she should be fine."

Severus leaned back hard in the chair. "How did Remus take that little piece of news?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Fairly well, all things considered. I told him that while she's relatively young, I mean she's only 38, the multiple pregnancies have taken their toll. Remus was--well, horrified seems a little strong, but he was certainly thoughtful after our conversation."

"As he should be. I was beginning to wonder if he was trying to repopulate Hogwarts all by himself." He took a sip of his drink and set it aside. "Ah, one more potion to add to the list. No matter."

"Severus!" Harry exclaimed with some asperity. "When are you going to let either Artemis or Douglas handle the potions? With all your school duties and the experiments we work on and now this. It's too much--you're going to wear yourself out."

Rather than get angry, Severus started chuckling. "You, my love, are a fine one to take me to task about too much work with your clinic and private practice and hospice visits, not to mention the charity work you do among the Muggles. I merely amuse myself with a few select potions I want to make absolutely sure are the purest and the best they can be. Artemis, ironically, is the better potioner of the two of them and is positively brilliant with the Wolfsbane, hence I surrendered its making to him gladly." He picked up his glass and contemplated its amber glow in the fire. His voice and his face softening, he finished, "And I will trust no one else with your restorative."

Harry leaned over and kissed him gently. "For which I am eternally grateful," he whispered.

Severus nibbled on his lip and murmured, "You're redirecting. I wonder from whom you learned that? Hmmm?"

Harry smiled smugly and sat back in the chair, drinking deeply from his glass. "Well, I wouldn't know." He chuckled shaking his head--some things just never changed. Looking back at the fire he casually remarked, "Actually, I'm thinking of taking on an apprentice or two--at least to help with triaging the patients and taking down the clinical notes, although not the research notes. Found a couple promising young Healers at St. Matthews, both trained by Quiesta--I think they might have the wherewithal to learn the _Sanos_ I practice."

Severus remained where he was with an obvious effort. "I see. What brought this on?"

"I'm tired, Severus. Bone tired and frankly, I want to start spending less time in London and more here on the research where I can be more useful."

"This wouldn't have anything to do, would it, with why you were late this evening?"

"Not now, Severus. I'll get to it, I promise."

A log falling in the fire, crackling and sending up a shower of sparks, almost covered the grunt of frustration Severus let out, but there was no helping it. He couldn't force the issue.

While Severus magicked the log back into place, Harry continued. "I finally asked Perrin to join me."

Severus stared at him. "I thought Perrin was helping Quiesta teach and had no interest in your work." He took a long drink of the cognac and sighed.

Harry blinked. Perrin was supposed to have told Severus so it wouldn't come as a shock. He was definitely going to have to talk to the boy about this. However, there was no way now to unsay it. "True--was with Quiesta--until he started showing an unusual affinity for detecting the _Schema_ of people about a year ago. Quiesta made him come talk to me a few months back; I've been training him off and on since then and he's moved to Bartie's now. I'm taking him on, first to be my assistant and manage the apprentices, maybe later as a partner, assuming he can be taught how to create the _Schema_."

Severus looked hurt. "Why didn't he say anything to me about it? I mean I know it's not your place to do so, but I just had lunch with him last week and he said only that he was thinking of changing jobs, but was unclear as to what it entailed."

Harry moved over and sat next to Severus on one of the cushions, facing him. Draping his arm over his legs, he replied gently, "He's afraid of your disapproval and you know how important that is to him. I'm sorry, Severus, I thought he'd already spoken to you about it--I set it as a stipulation of our agreement."

"Why would he think I would disapprove of such a thing?" Harry just stared at him. Severus threw up his hands and smiled ruefully. "All right, I concede. I might have been a little vocally censorious about the dangers inherent in your work in the past." He ran his hand over Harry's arm in his lap. "But that's different than if he were to do it."

Harry chuckled. "I know that and you know that, but the, ah, disagreements we've had over it in his presence in the past affected him more than we ever thought. I admit, I was a bit shocked when he almost turned me down because of it."

Severus was thoughtful. "Hmmm. It seems I will have to discuss this with him. I would not want him to make his career choices based on whether I approve or not." He put his glass down and leaned back full into the chair. "Well, at least this should make Helena happy."

Harry made a sour face. "As if Helena could ever be happy about anything," he muttered.

Throwing him a sharp glance, Severus replied, shrugging, "She's your offspring. Certainly there's something positive in there, somewhere. Perrin obviously thinks so or he would not have married her."

"She's half her mother's as well and Perrin is a sucker for lost causes." He really didn't want to talk of this now--he had other things on his mind. He looked away, saying, "Severus, can we please just let this part of the conversation drop?"

Severus carded his hand through Harry's hair as if brushing it; they both knew how uncomfortable the subject was. "If that is what you want. I have no particular need to speak of her at this time, but in passing, I will say you are going to have to come to grips with this or it will continue to eat you from the inside out." His hand stilled and he sniffed. "But I suspect you don't need me to tell you that."

No, Harry didn't, but as quickly as he could, he dropped the matter from his mind. Thoughts of Helena made his head ache and always had. He stared into the fire, sipping his brandy, aware of Severus patiently waiting for him to gather himself.

"Have you brooded long enough about why you were late or do you intend to hold me in suspense the rest of the night?" Severus asked drolly while he swirled the brandy in his glass. With a wrong move of his wrist, he hissed softly.

Startled, Harry turned to look at him and his hands. With determination, he set his own drink aside on Severus' table. Muttering a spell, a blue jar sailed through the air into his outstretched hand from the shelves of medicines in his study. Severus sucked in a breath when Harry opened the jar and set it next to his glass. He took the snifter out of Severus' as well and, pulling the hand, holding it into his lap, he scooped out a dollop of the cream in the jar. Rubbing the healing lotion between his two hands, he picked up Severus' and began to massage the ointment into the appendage, paying particular attention to the joints, which were a bit swollen and obviously tender.

Harry was upset with himself that he hadn't noticed it sooner.

Well past the time he needed to stop, his hands continued to caress Severus'. He got some more cream and started working on the other one. Severus laid his head back on the chair, his eyes slitted in contentment, the occasional groan escaping his lips every now and again as Harry made love to his hands. After a long while Harry stopped and, scooting forward, he put his head on Severus' chest, his arms wiggling behind him to wrap around his waist.

"They attacked the Muggles in Charing Cross this afternoon. There weren't any Aurors there to protect them, so I got drawn into the fray." Severus sighed and folded him in his arms, his head on top of Harry's. "There were minimal casualties, mostly Muggle; I don't think their purpose was to harm but to alarm."

"Well, that explains why I couldn't see you with the charm," Severus remarked dryly. "Did you recognize anyone?"

Harry sighed and moved closer. "I don't remember much, Severus. Twenty bloody minutes of flying hexes and I can remember very little of it." He shuddered and whispered, "Draco was there, though. Him, I remember."

Severus was quiet for a while, lost in his thoughts, his arms tightening every now and then. Harry didn't want to move, but knew they were not done discussing it.

Harry pulled back so he could see Severus' face. "I'm treating more Muggles now than Wizarding folk, Severus. That's the main reason I want to move on, why others are more than qualified to take over. When I first started my practice, it was to help Wizards. Almost any healer can treat the Muggles; what I do is different and while I won't say my efforts are wasted--"

"They're not being used to their fullest potential either," Severus finished. "Quite a dilemma for you."

"Not only wasted, but--" he hesitated and then went on in a rush, "Severus, I can't help but feel that soon, very soon, things are going to get much worse and we are going to need more people who are trained to do what I do. And there are so few who can. Quiesta has been scanning all applicants not only where she's at, but other universities as well; they're just not there. Perrin is the closest we've found and I am not sure we can train him to where he needs to be."

He put his head back down and said, his voice muffled in Severus' dressing gown, "You know how when you haven't done something in a while, but you used to be pretty good at it and when you do it again, it's exhilarating?"

Severus made a noise of assent and Harry went on. "I hated what I had to do today. Hated that I had to defend myself and others. Pretty pathetic, huh? The Boy-who-lived trying to avoid a fight." He felt sick inside. "It's going to get worse, isn't it?"

Severus nodded, remarking quietly, "I think so, Harry. This makes the fourth attack in as many months. I think Lucius is finally making his move."

"I was afraid of that."

Severus loosened his arms and sat back to see Harry. Holding his gaze, he said softly, "And for the record, hating to fight is never a bad thing. It just makes us all the more determined to find other ways to solve the problems. But I am also thinking that violence cannot be avoided in this."

"So it's war? Again?"

"I'm afraid so," Severus replied sadly.

Harry nodded. "All the more reason then to step up our research. If it's a fight he wants, then we must be prepared to minimise the damage."

There was a light in Severus' eyes Harry had not seen for years and had hoped to never see again; determination tempered with a keen resolve. He looked into the fire, saying, "Tomorrow we must discuss this with McGonagall and Arthur. We need a stronger, bolder strategy." He then turned his eyes to Harry and whispered, "But for now, we just need each other."

Harry had no argument to this and gratefully yielded to Severus' lips on his own.

* * *

Later, much later, their talk and the fine Remy but a memory, they lay entwined in their downy bed, recently sated and relaxed from a protracted late dessert. Harry pulled a little way from Severus and asked with an impish smile, "Do you recollect the name of that one?"

Severus was still a little distracted by the lingering sensations singing through his body, but he gamely answered, "Hmmm? I don't recall off-hand, I just remember it's one of our favorites and had something to do with whales and reciprocity. Hold on." He broke away and, stretching, pulled out _The Book_ from the drawer of the bedside table. Sitting up, the sheet pooled enticingly at his waist, his bare backside exposed to Harry's appreciative view, he thumbed through the well-worn, dog-eared pages, the binding cracked and repaired in places; some added pages were held in by _Spell-o-tape_. As he continued to look, the act itself another sporadic ritual between them usually reserved for those times when one or the other, or in this case both, were feeling a bit insecure. He supposed they could have just fixed the darn thing, but neither had the inclination; it was somehow fitting _The Book_ aged in much the same manner as they did and he couldn't help chuckling at his optimistic thought of what it would look like in another century.

"Let me see--Ah, yes, here--it's the _Jonah-and-the-Whale aka The Swallow-You-Whole_. He held the book so they both could read the faded entry and laughed at the comments to the side. Severus had written: _"Hmmm. Need to be able to talk the next day--maybe a little less stroking? More swallowing? Combine with tonguing from above?"_ To which Harry had replied: _"Oh Merlin, you're making me hard, Sev!"_

Sitting up next to him, Harry kissed his shoulder, saying, "I'd say we got that one spot on, Sev. Took years of practice, especially in light of the _Quid Pro Quid_ variation, but we've finally mastered it." They both laughed. _The Book_ had been a running joke between them for years--along with squids.

Severus also knew what was coming next as Harry yawned, settling back down and saying, "It was a bit of all right, though."

Severus replaced _The Book_ back in the table's drawer and laying back down next to his husband, he pulled Harry snugly in his arms, content with life. "Indeed yes, my love. It's always a bit of all right."

**Finis**

_"The consummate leader cultivates the moral law, and strictly adheres to method and discipline; thus it is in his power to control success."_

IV-16. Sun Tzu in "The Art of War"

* * *

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth Continued in Chapter Two, found in the Epilogue of _Book 03 : Epithalamium_.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for your kind attention. A full timeline, references, character lists, and partial author notes are available at my site--add a /finis.html to the end--full versions on my site are coming soon.

I Got Tired of Waiting :: 4 May 2004


End file.
